


When The Going Gets Tough, Deadpool Is Always There To Blow Shit Up Until Spidey Feels Better

by Yutyrannical



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: #NotAMorningPerson, #WadeIsConcerned, All Of Peter's Friends Are Dead, Aunt May Is Ruthless In Her Love For Peter, Baby Boy Is The Best Pet Name, Claire Is MVP, College!Peter, Conflicted Peter, Description/Mention of Pedophilia, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Father figure Tony, Graphic Description of Corpses, How do I tag?, I Watched Spiderman: Homecoming And This Is The Result, Insomnia!Peter, Lack Of Sleep Makes Peter Slightly Violent, M/M, Matt is cute, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Peter Has Organic Web, Peter May Have Almost Died, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Was Raped, Peter is poor, Protective Wade, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Wade Should Fear Aunt May's Wrath, Wade Takes Revenge, Wade Tries To Help, explicit for later chapters, hurt/angst, i can't tag worth shit, matt tries to help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yutyrannical/pseuds/Yutyrannical
Summary: Peter went through the greatest loses of his relatively short life in a relatively short time span. There is nothing that he wants to do more than to just sleep and forget, but his mind and the world won't let him. Wade just wants to help but Spiderman keeps their relationship at a distance. However, Peter survives a close call by the skin of his teeth because of Deadpool and the beginnings of a relationship take root."You know you suck at summaries, right?"Well yeah, obviously Deadpool. I don't know how to summary."Just let me write it. Ahem, 'Spidey has the best ass and I'd do anything for that ass, especially un-alive a lot of people.' There, that's much better."I don't think you understand the art of summaries either."I am offended! I will have you know that I am a patron of the written verse!"Oh, you slay me."Damn right!"Do you understand what sarcasm is?"What? Can't hear you, I'm... through.... tunnel. Bye!"I can still see you."Can't talk, killing people for hurting Spidey!"Deadpool no- augh, he's gone.





	1. Sleep Is For The Weak

**Author's Note:**

> ((So this was because I watched Spiderman: Homecoming. I guess this could be considered taking place after that? Peter is in college and like 20 years old? Yeah. If you are underage, avert your eyes because your innocence is in danger. Not now, but like in a few chapters. Do I have any idea where this fic is going? No. Do I know how long it will be? No. Will it ever get updated? HopefullyMaybePleaseDon'tHurtMe *Noncommittal shrug*
> 
> Also, Spider-Man, Deadpool, Daredevil, Claire, Aunt May, Iron Man, and any other recognizable characters from the MCU in this are the intellectual property of Marvel and do not belong to me.))

    Peter awoke with a start, his body trembling, palms sweaty, heartbeat thundering in his ears. The brunette had to center himself to realize he was not back on the streets, cradling his uncle as blood coated his hands. He was in his apartment, he was still in bed, and he was alone, like he always was. With head held in hands, shoulders shaking with the effort of not crying at the memory, Peter contemplated what he should do.

    Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, he found the offending numbers that told him it was 5:23 in the morning, mere hours after his head had hit the pillow. Patrols had been murder last night: literally. Spider-Man had not been able to save a bystander from the bullet that a bank robber had fired, retreating into New York’s darkest streets as the web slinger had skidded to a halt by the dying man’s form. Much to his utter dismay, the life was already gone from within the eyes long before Spider-Man had even landed by his side.

    The amount of blood that pooled from the wound in the man’s chest pulled at long forgotten scars. Spider-Man had not even been able to identify the bystander, nor the robber and so he could not apologize to the family nor catch the person responsible. Overall, the web head chalked it up to an enormous failure, his mood soured, and his conscience heavier than stone. He was supposed to be better than that, he was supposed to _save_ people, not let them die.

    It wasn’t a surprise to find wetness dripping down his cheeks, even with his hands covering them. Spider-Man was extremely remorseful of the blood on his hands but Spider-Man was strong, he did not weep outwardly. Spider-Man would become better so that an innocent life would not suffer like that again. Peter Parker could only weep at the loss of life and curse his inexperience and his lack of judgement that lost a family their father and husband.

    Despite doing his best to save all life, even the lives of those he was trying to stop, Peter didn’t feel like a life saved replaced a life lost. For all the good he had done, there were many he had failed. Harry committed suicide after his father passed, even though Peter had not noticed a thing. Gwen had met an end when peter hadn’t been able to stop her plummet from a building top. Even just remembering the sharp snapping sound of her spine as his web had caught her… it made him feel sick. And MJ had died in a car crash only a few months ago. His pain was raw, unadulterated, and this mystery man’s death was like placing the final nail into his coffin.

    With his mind swirling in misery and his thoughts heading down a rather destructive path, Peter threw his blankets from his sticky, sweat covered body and stood in nothing but his boxers. The boy had to do something, anything to stop himself from reliving the four tragedies. It was too early for anything else but sleep, especially on a Saturday, but Peter knew he wasn’t going back to bed anytime soon. So with that thought squarely planted at the forefront of his mind, he grabbed the suit that he always kept beneath his mattress and paused: he should towel off before donning the suit. It was a hell of a hard thing to clean after all.

    Peter hurried to the bathroom because his skin was beginning to crawl and the cold of his apartment was no longer welcome. The luxury of central heating and air was not something the college student could afford so the ample amount of blankets was what he used to stay warm in the winter. Summer was miserable because there were only so many things Peter could take off to avoid the heat.

    Regardless, Peter grabbed one of his three towels and hurriedly wiped his body down, his head throbbing with what he could only imagine to be the beginnings of a migraine. The thought of having to stuff his boxers into a comfortable position or donning the tighty whiteys he had bought to make being Spider-Man easier was just not appealing to him right now.

     _“Commando it is then.”_ Peter thought, stripping his boxers and pulling on the suit.

    Once he was satisfied with the way the suit was hugging his body, he glanced to the wallet and keys that lay on an end table by the door. With his stomach grumbling, he grabbed the wallet and webbed it to his right bicep, just in case he wanted to get something later today. So with that, he opened the window and crawled out, using his foot to close it behind him.

    The night air was much colder than he had anticipated and he shuddered, crawling to the roof where he perched, scanning the skyline before focusing in on his senses. Nothing seemed to be amiss in this part of town so he shot a web out, swinging from his place and ghosting through the air. This was his favorite part: getting to feel like he was flying. It did wonders for his mood. Alighting on various different rooftops, the webbed wonder seemed to be finding no trouble out and about, except he knew better than to trust that thought. And as if to confirm his suspicions, a rather hoarse screech found its way to him, causing the superhero to start swinging towards its source. He had mere moments to grasp the situation as he came across the pair of men trying to mug a woman at gunpoint.

    He landed heavily in the alleyway, only to flip up immediately as a crowbar was swung towards him. It was not the first, nor last time, that he thanked his spider sense for narrowly avoiding death. The baddie that had swung the weapon had fallen forward and Spider-Man landed atop his shoulders as he had tried to sail past. The sheer force of the superhero landing on the man had him falling face first onto the ground, where he stayed, obviously having hit harder than expected. The other man was holding a gun to the woman’s head, who, to her credit, was not crying.

    “You just hold it right there. Take one more step and I’ll blow her fucking brains out!” the scared man threatened, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped both the gun and the woman.

    Spider-Man rose from his crouched position very slowly, hands raised in a peaceful manner, “Chill out buddy, didn’t your mother ever tell you it was bad to feel up a girl without her permission?”

    The guy only gritted his teeth and pressed the gun further to the woman’s temple. She flinched at the pain and water pooled in her eyes but she stared hard at Peter, as if trying to tell him something. The adamance in the stare set Peter aback and he knitted his brows together, unsure of what she was trying to convey. But he didn’t have time to deliberate because the man was slowly backing away from him, woman in tow.

    Spider-Man didn’t move, his hands still held up. He had to take action, and soon, or it would be over. So he did the only thing he could think of. Shooting a web at the gun, yanking back, and using that momentum to leap forward in one sweeping motion, Peter caught the man with a knee to his chest, the gun forgotten on the ground. A cracking sound that Peter found himself enjoying guiltily came from the man’s chest as he fell, obviously having gotten a rib or two broken. But he was still alive, if judging by the ragged, pained breaths he was taking and the lack of blood. Though Peter paused to feel for any internal punctures, satisfied when he found none.

    Releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, he turned to look at the woman, “You should try to get-”

    “You’re Spider-Man? I thought you would be taller.” her voice was taut and almost accusing, her eyes holding the same intensity.

    He flinched at the harshness in her voice and tried not to take offense to her words. He knew from other dealings that sometimes victims lashed out negatively to their rescuers because they didn’t know any other alternative. She was probably shell shocked and he didn’t want to add to the stress.

    “Oh… Yeah, I get that a lot,” he mumbled, taking a step in her direction, “are you injured?”

    She mirrored his step, except hers was in the opposite direction. Now Spider-Man was a little hurt. He had just saved her, why was she afraid of him?

     _“I guess it could be that I’m a guy who just beat up the two guys that were trying to mug her, ergo I could force her to do what I wanted, I guess.”_ Peter mused to himself, sighing at that all too real possibility.

    It had happened before, especially with people subject to rape or almost-rape. Spider-Man was often not allowed close to the victim because of what he only assumed was the threat of an even greater adversary trying to take advantage of them. He respected their boundaries but that didn’t stop the dejected feeling he always got. Peter did this to save and protect, not to cause more harm.

    “I’m fine… I don't live far so I should be ok getting back.” she muttered, taking another step back to emphasize her desire to leave.

    “You don’t need to go to the hospital? Well alright… Um, I could make sure you got home safe if you-”

    “No! I mean… no I’m fine, thank you for offering and, uh, thank you for saving me.” and before Spider-Man could say or do anymore, she had backed out of the alley and was hurriedly walking away.

    What else was he supposed to do except let her go? It stung that she had rejected him so vehemently but that was just how the dice fell sometimes. There was no helping it and he certainly wasn’t about to force something on the person that had almost been forced to give up her money, possible innocence, or even her life. Despite her misgivings, she _had_ thanked him, so he would be grateful for that much. He had saved her, that’s all that mattered.

    Peter sighed heavily and glanced around, noting the many houses. No payphone in sight, not that he expected there to be one in this day and age. He lopped across the street to the only gas station on the block, its lights flashing a 24 hour sign and ‘OPEN’ on the door. The amount of awkwardness that fell across his being as he walked to the counter to face the haggard Italian man was priceless to any onlooker, which fortunately there were none of.

    The man’s eyes went wide and he sputtered at the counter, not sure if he should be surprised, frightened, or excited. He somehow managed a mixture of all three, “You’re Spider-Man!”

    Peter nodded quickly, “Yes I am and I need you to call the police. There are two guys across the street who just tried to rob a woman at gunpoint. I took care of it but I need you to inform the police that they are there.”

    “Of course, Spider-Man, sir!” he wasted no time in picking up the phone, calling the station and explaining what had transpired.

    “They said they are sending a squad car out. Uh, is there anything else I can help you with?” the man asked, an awed smile stuck to his features.

    Peter had to admit that it was a welcome experience after having been shown the cold shoulder by the woman and so he glanced around. Spotting some chips, he put them on the counter and fished out his wallet from where he had webbed it to himself, pulling out a five, “Just the chips.” he said in a bright tone.

    The man rang the web head up and then Spider-Man was walking out of the convenience store with a small plastic bag in his hand just as the cop car pulled up. Peter took that as his cue and swung off into the direction of deeper NYC. He should have headed home, especially with how tired he was, but he munched on the chips, feet dangling off of an apartment building he had touched down on a few blocks over. Nothing seemed too pressing this early Saturday: no one in the city wanted to get up that early either. But Peter was beginning to sink into his thoughts again and he really didn’t want to face reality right then. So when he heard clambering behind him and a cheering call, he sighed in relief, which the other was quite privy to.

    “Spidey! Is that a gun in my pants or are you just happy to see me?” Deadpool quipped, making no sense but placing both hands against his cheeks in surprise nonetheless.

    “You’re a welcome distraction…” Spider-Man mumbled truthfully.

    Usually he kept Deadpool at a distance, going as far as to only call him Deadpool, rather than the name he had been told. He wanted to make sure there was a wall between them so that the merc wouldn’t find out more than he should. But Peter was too tired to play those sorts of games, especially when he did really need someone to talk to. He had no one except Aunt May and he couldn’t trouble her. Peter didn’t really want to trouble Deadpool either, but luckily the gun for hire made it easy.

    “You sound like you have something on your mind?” Deadpool went rather serious in the span of a few heartbeats, sitting down next to Peter and extending a taco to him.

    Spider-Man shook his head at the offer but slumped forward so that his forearms were resting on his thighs, “You could say that. But it’s fine, it isn’t your problem and you don’t have to worry.”

    Deadpool gasped and placed an offended hand to his chest, “Why Spidey, you should know that I would be honored to hear out my favorite arachnid. Especially if I get to kill whoever made you sad.”

    “No, no killing. It wouldn’t matter anyway, the people who are responsible are already dead. And that’s the problem.” Spider-Man breathed, his eyes downcast.

    “Oh, oh I see. You lost someone close to you?” Deadpool acquiesced to the idea that he wouldn’t be killing anyone.

    “Three people close to me in fact, I lost them all in the span of a year. My best friends and my almost lover. It’s been rough recently.” Peter admitted, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment and genuine sadness. Did it say something about him that he would open up so willingly to an assassin?

    “Oh Spidey, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know,” then more to himself, “well of course I know that! What am I supposed to say?”

    Peter pointedly ignored the ramblings but he still appreciated the sentiment, “I’m just tired. I wish there was a way to just not be sad anymore. My sleep is suffering, my mood is suffering, and I’m becoming more violent with how I handle situations with baddies.”

    Deadpool cocked an eyebrow, which was honestly difficult to pull off in costume, “What’s wrong with a little violence, baby boy?”

    Spider-Man shot the other a dark look and Deadpool threw up his hands, “Right, yeah, excessive violence is not your thing.”

    “I think I’m just going to call it a night… er day. I’ll catch you around.” with that, Spider-Man leaned forward and fell from the rooftop, his web shooting out to catch a nearby building as he swung away.

 

~~~

 

     **_Look at that Spidey booty! Even when he’s sad, he’s gorgeous!_ ** Yellow surmised, making a show at watching the webbed wonder go.

     **Maybe we should concentrate on the fact that he’s obviously depressed? He isn’t sleeping right and we noticed he was more than a little skinny, so he’s not eating. He opened up to** **_us_ ** **and he’s never done that. Something is really wrong and we aren’t going to just ignore it, right? I’d hate for his problems to become another reason we off ourselves somewhere in a few days.** White sounded exasperated with Yellow and Wade, but his concern was genuine, if misguided.

    “I don’t know if we can do anything except watch that package swing away. I’m not going to press him to spill the beans, but I‘m going to be there for him and be anything he needs me to be. And nothing he doesn’t want me to be.” Deadpool sighed, standing from where he had been sitting.

     **_What if he doesn’t want you to be around?_ ** Yellow asked.

     **Are we giving him a choice if he doesn’t?** White responded.

    Deadpool pondered that, kicking his feet as he paced the building, scratching his head nonchalantly. He respected Spider-Man enough to leave him alone for a while, but he was just too selfish to stay away indefinitely. He also cared enough to try to find a solution that didn’t make Spider-Man hate him for overstepping the boundaries the arachnid had placed between them. It was just a matter of whether or not he was following Spider-Man home to make sure the super didn’t do something he shouldn’t.

     **_We get to see Spidey’s pad? Oh hell yes!_ ** Yellow seemed absolutely giddy at the prospect.

     **Maybe don’t overstep that boundary yet. We don’t know if it’s** **_that_ ** **serious.** White chimed in, a disapproving tone in his voice.

    “Since when were you my voice of reason? I thought your whole gig was serious, enhanced assassin with no feelings.” Wade commented, placing a foot up on the gutter while leaning an elbow on the propped knee, still watching after Spidey.

     **Well yes, but honestly the author of this fic wanted to take a few liberties with my personality. She thought it’d be better if you had warring personalities instead of ones that mostly agreed with each other.** White explained, as if it were obvious.

    “Oh, well that makes sense.” Wade responded.

     **_What does that make me? I’m kinda violent but also super flirty and super into anything that makes us feel good._ ** Yellow rambled on further but both White and Wade tuned him out.

     **I guess that makes you the fun personality, though you’re taking on an aspect that I would normally have had: the violence.** White again explained, as if he were talking to children.

    “Guys, enough with the fourth wall break. I’m sure the readers are much more interested in what’s wrong with Spidey than what either of you two represent within my psyche.” Deadpool sighed, already hopping down from the roof, to the fire escape, and then to the ground.  

     **Touché.**

**_Touché._ **

    The voices quipped in unison and Wade was considering whether or not it was too soon to go visit Lady Death again. He had seen her a few weeks ago but it was always a pleasure to see her and he often wondered if he’d ever be able to stay with her forever. Spider-Man was really nice and well worth his attention, but Death’s sweet embrace was something he had yearned for since he had acquired his powers. It was something he would probably never experience. Unless he managed to get old enough that his super healing factor couldn’t regenerate the cells any longer. He figured he was much like Wolverine: he aged, just extremely slowly.

     **Bummer, looks like you’re stuck with us for a while.**

**_At least an eternity._ **

    “Can we just not and say we did?” Wade asked as he skipped along the road, hoping to get home in time for the morning cartoons.

     **Nope.**

**_Nope._ **

    “Again with the fucking unison thing?” Wade growled, ignoring the weird looks he was getting as he went down the street.

 

~~~

 

    Peter landed on his apartment’s roof, his body sore and tired from the thirty six hours of being awake. Sleep sounded like a splendid idea as he crawled down towards his window, carefully opening it as he slipped inside. The room was bright at this point in time and the curtains that he closed over the window didn’t seem to be helping matters.

    Walking around while placing his wallet and the half eaten chips where they belonged, he began stripping the suit from his body. It was still a little chilly in his apartment but he was trying to pay no mind to the temperature. Pulling up his previously tossed boxers helped with the draft, but the bed and his multitude of blankets seemed rather enticing. But when he went to go lay down, the alarm clock at his bedside began screaming. The rage filled screech that left Peter’s mouth surprised even himself and the clock shattered against the wall when he threw it. This was not like him, this violence was frightening, especially knowing what he could do.

    Peter needed some sleep or he was going to be pinning the next person that even looked at him funny to a wall that was exceedingly high above the ground, maybe to the empire state building. But he had a job to get to. So, diverting his path to the bathroom, Peter pushed down the temptation to yawn and splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth to get rid of his foul breath, and tried to make his wild, stick-out-all-over-the-place hair do something except look like it had crawled out of the dumpster to sit on his head. Placing a hand to his face, he realized the bags under his eyes, which were ever present, had deepened and darkened over the last day. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it: his dreams, worries, duties as Spider-Man, and duties as Peter had been keeping him from sleep. All the young man wanted to do was regain his sanity, but life wasn’t going to let him. It was nine in the morning and his shift at his part time pizza delivery job was going to be starting in an hour, and bags or no bags, he had to be getting there on time or he would be terminated for his tardiness.

    So the twenty year old pulled on his work uniform and left his apartment, triple checking he had gotten his keys and wallet. He didn’t trust his half asleep brain to remember to have actually gotten them the first or second time. Closing and locking the door behind him, he hustled down the steps and unlocked his bicycle from the rack and peddled with all his might to the Pizza shop downtown.

    “Parker, you’re on time? Good, I don’t have to fire you right now. Here take this delivery.” came the booming, uncordial voice of Peter’s boss, the heavyset man handing the youth a few pizza boxes and the ticket.

    Sighing dramatically, he glanced at the ticket. Who in their right mind was ordering pizza that early in the morning? Oh right, Deadpool. The name on the tag didn’t even phase Peter like it normally did. The merc had ordered from the shop so often that they took his orders even when they wouldn’t normally, mostly because he always ordered enough for ten, tipped excessively well, and obviously ordered often. The web head had navigated interactions with Wade as Peter before but it was always with a lot of preparation to deflect any and all suspicion.

    He was fairly confident that Deadpool had no idea that he was Spider-Man, but Peter wasn’t prepared to ward off suspicion in this state. Maybe he would pass it on to George, that guy always liked doing the delivery for Deadpool, mostly because of the money. But at that thought Peter paused, he needed the money too and he shouldn’t be passing up those sorts of opportunities.

    With that in mind, Peter prepared the pizzas in the carry case and began his route to Wade’s apartment. It wasn’t too long before he got there, most of the traffic having died down earlier, letting him bike with relative ease down the streets. The apartment was dingy, a little crumbly, and definitely something he would have pegged the merc to have lived in. The stairs were stained with god knows what, the walls possibly molding, the paint nonexistent, and the air stale. It was like stepping into a haunted building.

    When the youth knocked at Deadpool’s apartment number, he steeled himself for their exchange. Wade answered the door, his suit still on, weapons still holstered as usual, “Ah Peter, it’s been a while. How are you? How are George and Sarah?”

    “We’ve all been really busy with school lately. It’s been hard, but when has it not been?” Peter replied, cocking his voice a few octaves higher and placing a tired politeness in his voice.

    “Ah, don’t I know that feeling. Well I’m sure you’ve got other… Hey are you ok? You look exhausted.” Wade noticed, glancing beneath the cap Peter had tried to pull down.

    “Oh, yeah, term paper is due soon. I haven’t slept in a few days.” Peter found himself explaining what wasn’t even a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

    “You should treat your body right man, it’s not good to deny it the basic faculties of life.” Wade responded as he took the food and handed the young man a couple hundred more than what the pizza was worth.

    Deadpool always tipped well, but this was insane, “Ah I think you probably gave me more than you thought. These are hundreds, not twenties or tens.”

    There was a smile behind that mask and a little chuckle, “I know how to count, buddy. Have a nice night.”

    Then Deadpool was closing the door, leaving a stunned and excited Peter to try to process this. He wouldn’t be late on the bills that month with a tip in the hundreds. It almost made him frantic to get back to the shop, his mood improved and his opinion of Deadpool yet again changing.

    Every time he visited that place it was always a little detail that he discovered. One time he had walked up just as Wade had and noticed the merc escorting an old lady into the apartment next to his, another he had opened the door only for small puppies that Wade had been pet sitting to come bounding out in glee, and yet another time he had taken all the pizzas, with normal toppings, to an apartment with a mother and her three children. Wade’s heart was for the lesser in life, he always noticed the little things and it charmed the college student. But it also scared him to think that he could just flip a switch and he would be cold blooded, mercenary Wade. He was a baffling enigma that pulled at Peter.

    Peter took his time getting back to the pizza place, ignoring most of the world around him as he went. His thoughts never strayed from Wade as he biked back, mind mostly a blur. He wanted them to be friends and he wanted to be able to lessen Deadpool’s more violent tendencies but he wasn’t in the understanding of how other than by example through Spider-Man. But Spider-Man had been getting more rough with his opponents and wasn’t being the best role model.

    Peter flipped through the paper he had picked up outside as he came through the door of the pizza place, finding an article on the men from the night before. The work sighted a concussion for the first man and broken ribs for the second. The writer had accused Spider-Man of increasing violence and asked what could be the cause of such actions in the hero and if it was the start of darker days to come. Peter couldn’t blame them, but it still stung. The papers were thinking he was a bad role model too.

    There were perfectly good explanations for his behavior: he was still grieving, his sleep had been nonexistent for a while, and he was always running around town, with and without the suit. But Spider-Man didn’t get to make excuses. He had to be better than himself.

    “C’mon Parker. Next delivery. Go!”

    “Yessir.” Peter responded and he was out the door again.


	2. Slip Ups Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Where Spiderman's lack of sleep catches up with him and Deadpool finds the result. Also Peter may have found out who the dead man was and where his family lives. Not for stalker purposes but for apology purposes. It sounds a little stalkery I know. He means well I promise.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So yes, new chapter. I feel like this one doesn't flow as cohesively maybe? I think I should have taken out a few parts to do later but everything has a reason. Not a single character in this is insignificant, so it shall be fine once later chapters come out. ))

    Peter got home that evening ever more depleted. The deliveries had gone off well, he had made a few hundred in tips, not counting Deadpool’s. The extra money that sat snugly in his wallet felt amazing, something that made him feel a bit more secure in his state at the moment. It was almost enough for him to consider just falling off to sleep. He could count that morning as his usual patrol, right? One day wouldn’t hurt NYC, would it? But then the heavy weight of those words that always bounced in his head when he wanted to slack had him ashamed for even thinking it was fine for him not to go out and stop everything he could. Great power came with great responsibility and apparently no sleep.

    The suit was back on him before he could think about his decision, his wallet stowed with his keys in the apartment: he wouldn’t be needing either that night. He began crawling out his window, surprised at how taxing it was on him. He did that every night without any strain. Crawling walls and ceilings was second nature to him by now so why was it suddenly feeling like is was the hardest feat of strength he had endured yet? Peter tried to shake it off, leaping from the window after closing it, shooting off a web into the air. Except it didn’t catch on anything.

    Spider-Man started falling through the air, the sensation no longer gratifying as the ground began to hurriedly rise to meet him. The youth flailed for a second, getting his bearings as he shot another web, almost crying with relief when the web found its mark. He hadn’t missed like that since he had first become Spider-Man. Maybe he was a little more exhausted than he had previously realized. Perhaps he would just do a couple swings around the city and call it a night, if only to ease his conscience.

    The city lights, which were usually dazzling, only hurt his eyes, their brilliance that of a star mere inches from his corneas. The light breeze felt like arctic blasts in their chill and force, each gust sending icicles down his bloodstream. The smells, which usually culminated into a blend of the best NYC had to offer now competed for dominance until his nostrils were full of the scent of waste. Was it always like that and Peter just hadn’t noticed? No it was definitely him: he was all out of sorts. Maybe he couldn’t even blame his lack of sleep this time.

    He had felt the quiet rage for a while, that empty, seething blackness that was festering in the corner of his heart. Peter thought that maybe by ignoring it, that it would heal and dissipate on its own. But it wasn’t, it was just increasing in size and control over his moods. Spider-Man had a name for it: guilt. He felt guilty for the friends he had been unable to save. He could remember every night he had spent in the last few months crying himself to sleep, the darkness having been his only comfort and companion through his agony.

    Spider-Man needed to find another spark, to be able to move on with his life so he could still help people who needed him. They deserved a Spider-Man at his best and he was giving them a Spider-Man at possibly his worst.

    In his reflection, he swung by one of those old television shops, the ones in the window showing the news. It was always a good idea to look at the news to see if there were any ongoing tragedies the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man could assist with. Landing on a building across the street, he focused on the television shop. For a while it was just a recap of a town event before it switched to coverage of a crime committed the night before.

    Peter nearly fell from his perch when he saw the dead man he had been unable to save come on screen. Apparently he had been a very influential businessman and that the person who had killed him was a suspected highway robber: having been on a rampage in multiple states. The name that flashed below the deceased was ‘Robert Laraine’ and Peter’s gut twisted. He had an ID for the man and a job to do.

    Peter tried to make a habit of visiting the families of those he had not been able to save when his personal involvement should have saved them. He felt he owed it to the family. Therefore, he needed to find out where Robert’s family lived.

    Leaping from the building and into open air, he somersaulted before webbing through the streets, deciding yellow pages was a good place to start. He could just look it up on his phone, but that would require going back to his apartment to retrieve it. Peter suddenly turned mid jump and smiled to himself: he had just passed his job and he _knew_ they had yellow pages in the back.

    Spider-Man not-so-gracefully landed on the roof of the pizza joint, shaking out his legs and arms after having landed oddly. The roof access was always open, something that made this entire endeavor much easier. Peter supposed he could go through the front door but it had been extremely awkward the last time he had entered a public establishment in suit. So he simply went down the stairs and slipped into the manager’s office, where he knew his boss would be sleeping. The office was cluttered with papers, books, shelves, and the man himself, the air reeking of pizza and failed dreams.

    Much as he had predicted, the man was there, snoring as if it were a competition. Fortunately that made it easy for Peter to find the dust covered book on one of the shelves in the back corner, flip through the darkened, liquid stained pages, and find his mark. Robert had a residency in NYC and Peter grabbed a pen from the desk and pulled back his glove carefully. He took down the address quickly, blowing on the ink to let it dry and leaving his skin exposed so it wouldn’t stain the inside of his suit.

    Closing and replacing the book, he tiptoed out of the office, only to nearly bump into George. They stared at each other for a second before comprehension dawned on the other’s face and Spider-Man brought a hand up, silencing him.

    “Before you say anything, yes I’m here, mostly because I’m trying to find Deadpool. I’ve got some business with him and I was told he likes this place. But I have not found him so I guess I’m leaving. Oh and if you could just not mention I was here… to anyone, that would be great.” Peter explained, throwing his voice a bit deeper so George wouldn’t recognize it.

    “Sure thing Spider-Man! Uh, Deadpool usually orders in an hour if you want to stick around?” George offered, the spark in his eyes almost making Spider-Man want to humor him.

    “I would but I can’t sit here and do nothing. I’ve got people to hopefully save.” Spider-Man started walking towards the back entrance and George stared until he made it past the door.

    Peter was sure George would keep quiet about their interaction, he was a good kid like that. But he heard George follow after him and so he decided to give the guy a little show. Taking a running start, he jumped to the wall of a building and started climbing, leaping backwards to catch a web and sail over the top of the pizza place. But now that he possessed the address, he had work to do.

 

~~~

 

    It was easy enough to find the house where the address pointed to, mostly because he had been there early that morning. He recognized the gas station and the alleyway from the mugging as he swung by and into the small neighborhood.

    He stood at the doorway of the surprisingly modest house, the white paint new, the garden immaculate, the porch decorated with chairs and toys. It looked like something out of a magazine, even the doorbell chime seemed fake with how cliche it was. There was movement inside and then the door was replaced with a girl boasting light blonde curls, huge green eyes, and a bright smile.

    “Mommy! It’s Spider-Man!” she exclaimed, grabbing Peter’s hand and tugging.

    Peter was fond of children so he let her hold on and try to drag him with mild protest, “Um, I should probably wait at the door for your mom.”

    The woman that rounded the corner in haste was the same one from that morning, her honey hair pulled out of her face, her chocolate eyes intense and accusing, “I told you not to follow me home. I’m fine!”

    Spider-Man threw up his free hand in surrender, “I didn’t follow you home… I came here because of the man that died last night. I… I was coming to apologize to the family… for not being able to save him. I honestly didn’t know you lived here.”

    Her eyes became misty, her face conflicted as she looked to the radiant and giddy girl who still clung to Peter’s arm, “She has always loved you… We haven’t told her yet… just come inside and close the door behind you.”

    After closing the door as instructed, the youth let the little girl drag him into their living room, which consisted of a comfortable brown, leather sofa, a cushioned, well loved rocking chair, a fireplace, shelves with pictures of the woman and girl, and even more toys. The little girl was quick to take him to the couch where they both sat as she started talking a mile a minute. Spider-Man interacted with her for a while, almost forgetting his purpose before his eyes found the woman again, sitting in the rocking chair. She was tired and the intensity was gone. The fondness in her face was soothing as she watched her daughter laugh and squeal as Spider-Man answered the questions he deemed appropriate enough to tell her. It was mostly the usual stuff: do you really shoot webs, do you really climb walls, are you actually really strong?

    “I haven’t seen her this happy in months… Robert was gone to us, even before last night. He never came home, he just sent checks or picked up mail. She hadn’t seen her father in half a year.” the woman explained and Peter looked at her in surprise.

    “I didn’t realize,” the web head paused and glanced to the girl, “is there anything I can do?”

    “Just keep making her laugh. She needs that right now,” she paused and then nodded to herself, “my name is Julianna. That’s Cadence.”

    “How old are you, Cadence?” he cooed, turning his attention back to the girl at Julianna’s request.

    “Five!” Cadence shrieked in happiness, holding up a hand with fingers splayed.

    “Well Cadence, it is wonderful to have met you. Where do you go to school?”

    She seemed to struggle with the answer to that one and Julianna chuckled, “She’s homeschooled through the K12 program.”

    “Wow! You get to be homeschooled? Man, I wish my parents had done that for me. You’re really lucky.” Peter laughed quietly.

    Without warning, Cadence reached for his mask and Peter snapped his head back, avoiding her small fingers, “Sorry, buttercup, the mask has to stay on.”

    “I’m so sorry, Cadence that was rude.” Julianna was standing then and walking over.

    Cadence looked about to cry and he shook his head, “No it’s fine, don’t cry,” Spider-Man patted the girl’s head and then to Julianna, “I'm not mad, kids always try at least once. I expected it.”

    Julianna still didn’t seem convinced but she nodded and returned to her seat before she jumped up again, “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot. Would you like anything to eat or drink? I just wasn’t expecting company and well, I forgot my manners.”

    “No it’s fine, I’m ok… I would much rather know if you blame me for Robert. Last night you were so harsh and now, connecting the dots, were you angry with me for not, ya know, saving him?” Spider-Man hesitantly questioned, bouncing Cadence playfully on his knee.

    “No, of course not, I,” she began with surprise in her voice but then sighed, “at first I was very angry with you. I wasn’t mad that he was gone, just that I could now never repair his and Cadence’s relationship. She’s really going to grow up without a father figure now. I apologize for last night, I had just found out about him.”

    She had her hands folded in her lap, knuckles white with how tightly she held on and Peter’s shoulders slumped, “I didn’t take it to heart. And I am truly sorry, I tried to stop the man but I wasn’t fast enough.”

    Julianna waved a dismissing hand into the air, swiping at what she probably felt were unwelcome tears, “He was dead to us a long time ago. We were getting divorced… but I did still love him.”

    Her voice broke and the sob that came from her was quiet and filled with the pain that Peter was feeling in his soul. It resonated with him and he found himself standing, holding Cadence in one arm and pulling the woman up into a hug, “I know what you’re going through. It’s the reason I do this, to try to prevent things like this from happening. It’s a shame I'm still only human.”

    “Mommy, don’t cry. Spider-Man will fix whatever is making you sad!” Cadence said, moving to her mother’s arms when Peter had gotten close enough.

    Julianna’s shoulders trembled with her withheld sobs and she smiled through her tears, “Yes of course baby… he already has,” she looked to Spider-Man again, her eyes soft, “thank you for coming. It really means alot to me, well us.”

    “Of course, but I have to go soon, the city always needs me.” the arachnid mumbled, pulling back when the woman had mostly stopped crying.

    “Yes, well come and visit anytime, we would love to have you.” she said, holding Cadence on her left hip.

    “Yeah, maybe I can swing it,” Peter mentally flinched at his stupid pun and then got a little serious, “I know it’s hard right after someone passes. I’ll try to keep an eye on this side of town for a while, make sure you’re okay and all that.”

    “I’d appreciate it, it’s hard enough just to watch Cadence and the break-ins have been increasing lately.” Julianna gestured to her right, probably to a neighbor’s house.

    “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he backed up and then opened the front door, waving, “I’ll see you later Cadence.”

    “Bye bye, Spider-Man!” she exclaimed, using both hands to wave.

    Then Peter was swinging away, glancing back to see the pair in their doorway. The web head decided Julianna was nice, even regarding his first encounter with her. She reminded him a lot of his Aunt May, which made him automatically comfortable around her. He wouldn’t mind being friends with the woman, it would probably do him some mental good.

    But he still had the rest of the night ahead of him and he needed to make it until at least nine that night. Warily, he noted that his reaction time was severely reduced, he was missing every few webs, and even his depth perception was suffering. Yet he had to stop and survey the streets, people milling about, some drunk, some partially sober.

    Peter was about to just give up and go home after having swung around a few more blocks, his arms buckling slightly with each swing, when he spotted a couple of guys trying to steal a car in a secluded parking lot. Twisting his body, he landed on the hood, webbing both of their hands to the doors of an old, dented car.

    Crouching down in his signature pose, he sighed out, “Can we just not today, guys? I’ve got to be in class really early tomorrow and I need to get home.”

    “You’re still in school? And school on a Sunday?” one of the perps asked, a brow undoubtedly cocked underneath his mask.

    “Well, yeah, but I’m in college... Wait, it's still Saturday? Shit... Oh well, that doesn’t matter, forget I said anything. Listen,” he hopped down to the ground and went over to the one that had spoken, figuring him to be more friendly, “I’m going to borrow your phone real quick.”

    He reached into the man’s pocket, despite the yelp of protest the youth received, fishing out the cellular device, “Hey, that’s my phone man. You're going to rat me out with my own phone?”

    “I like irony. Hey, it’s not my fault I caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.” Spider-Man responded, bypassing the lock by just hitting emergency.

    After a few rings a familiar voice picked up the line, “Hey, Janice, it’s Spidey. Yeah, before you say anything, two guys are breaking into a car at the corner of- oh, you’re already tracking the call? Oh cool.”

    Peter listened to Janice berate him for his vigilantism but he tuned her out, “Sorry, can’t hear you Janice… going… tunnel…” he said, making crackling sounds into the phone.

    Pausing to hear an exasperated voice Peter blushed in embarrassment, “Oh, you’re still tracking the phone? So you know I’ve not gone anywhere. Well still, gotta go, bye!”

    He hung up the phone and placed it back in the man’s pocket, “Dude, that was lame.” the man said, his partner laughing a bit under his ski mask.

    “That is the point, Janice likes it when I’m lame.” Peter said, shrugging and sitting cross-legged on the car hood again.

    “Why steal a dingy car like this? I mean, honestly guys, go big or go home.” Peter laughed, examining the car.

    “Are you encouraging us to steal more expensive things?” the more silent man asked.

    “Well no, yeah I guess that was a silly thing to say.” Spider-Man replied, scratching the back of his head.

    “Can we just get off with a warning this time, man?” the more talkative one questioned, trying to pull on the webbing.

    “Naw man, you do the crime, you do the time. You’re lucky I caught you before you actually stole it. You’ll only get attempted car theft.” the web slinger replied, sending extra webbing to both of their hands, receiving a dark glare from both of them.

    Spider-Man was about to say something snarky when a cop car pulled up. However, it looked off, like one of the decals might be missing or maybe the car was a bit too banged up for an officer to be driving. It had also arrived way quicker than the hero would have imagined, though it could have been an officer on patrol that had picked up the call. Spider-Man hopped off the car’s hood, moving towards the vehicle when a man got out it. The webbed wonder couldn’t help but tense up a bit because of the armed and uniformed man that walked up towards him. He knew how the cops felt about him: he was a vigilante after all and he was sort of overstepping legal bounds in most cases. But he didn’t really want to get in an argument over his effectiveness and general public approval with the officer so he readied to swing away.

    “Hold up, Spidey! Before you jump the gun, I need to settle a bet I have with a couple of my buddies.” the man jogged up to the wall crawler with a pleasant smile, glancing around him to the men webbed to the car.

    The cop seemed genuinely kind and inquisitive, his dark eyes at the same time friendly and hardened. His hair was hidden by his cap, except for a few black strands that crept and curled out from under it. Even the shape of his face, all gentle lines, was inviting and warm. It didn’t look like it should belong to a NYC cop, or maybe to a very new one.

    “A bet? What sort of bet?” Peter mused, profoundly confused. He had expected animosity or barely restrained annoyance at best.

    “Whether or not you can actually dodge a bullet.” with that, the man ended his sentence with the drawing of a gun and the pulling of a trigger.

    His spider senses had been thrumming dully but they ramped up mid way through the man’s sentence. But Peter was just tired enough and just confused enough by the man that he tried to dodge a fraction of a second too late. The bullet pierced his side, Spider-Man having moved enough so it wouldn’t hit anything that would cause immediate death, but the bullet hit him nevertheless. Peter quelled the scream that threatened to rise from his being but he couldn’t stop the pained yelp, nor the fact that he lurched forward and lost his balance. He heard exclamations from the car thieves behind him, their swears decorating the silence.

    The heat that rose up to engulf him was unbearable, the shortness in his breath making him dizzy, and the pain was locking his muscles. But he had to move, he had to get away.

    “Guess not… shame.” the officer cooed from where he stood, cocking the gun again.

    Peter didn’t think as he webbed the man’s face and pulled, sending him tripping over Spider-Man's own body. The web head struggled to breath and stand, the red darkening on his suit where the blood was pouring from. He managed to web a nearby building and jump, pulling himself up with an agonized scream. It was all he could do just to remain conscious as he bumped into the wall of the building he had swung to, crawling up with one hand and his feet.

    Peter could hear police sirens in the distance and the skidding of a car tearing out of the parking lot. With mild annoyance, he realized the man had not been an officer. Collapsing on the roof, he focused on breathing, realizing he was losing more blood than he had first thought. Pressure, he had to apply pressure. Another scream was ripped from his being and he was beginning to have vision problems. Damn him for his lack of sleep.

    Somewhere between the pain and his breathing, he heard someone speaking and wasn’t sure who it was until Spider-Man was peering down at him. But wasn’t he Spider-Man? It wasn’t until he looked closer, and with a little more effort that he managed to make out the merc with a mouth.

    “Deadpool.” he croaked out.

 

~~~

 

    Deadpool wasn’t one for early mornings, especially on Saturdays. The only reason he was even _conscious_ right now was because he hadn’t actually gone to sleep the night before. A night on the town, a visit to Lady Death somewhere around two in the morning, and then a trip to his favorite taco stand around three hours later had him prowling the streets, looking for something or someone. Usually he would have a job around this time, but he wasn’t unhappy with the lack of a responsibility right then; he was in the mood to kick back and relax. He was merely jumping from rooftop to rooftop, consuming the rest of his last taco, enjoying the cold and his thoughts… well maybe not that last part.

     **_Well excuse me if I’m not enjoyable. I honestly just think you don’t know how to make the best of a situation._ ** Yellow grumbled, mostly just to be heard and make a point.

    **I would rather it if we kept to the peaceful silence we had going there for like, oh, ten seconds, regardless of what we were thinking.** White explained, and Wade could almost feel the crossing of his nonexistent arms.

    “You guys should really learn to bask in the mood. Look, I didn’t even spill my taco while jumping. This is cause for celebration!” Wade exclaimed, just as some of the taco’s innards plopped onto his chest.

     **You were saying?** White commented, the snark layered in his voice.

     **_You jinxed yourself, again._ ** Yellow mused, snickering despite White’s all too real feeling eye roll.

    The assassin-for-hire looked down in dismay before using the napkin he had acquired with the purchase of the taco to dab at the food. Stain number four thousand, coming right up.

     **Didn’t they teach you how to eat in kindergarten?** White questioned, disgust dripping in his voice.

     **_I would like to point out that eating messy foods is no fun if you keep clean all the way through the process. It’s the same with killing._ ** Yellow chirped, already lost in the memories.

    “I will have to agree with you there.” Wade nodded, crumpling the napkin and taco wrapper before finding the nearest trash can and slam dunking that shit as he lept from the rooftop.

     **Points for accuracy.**

     **_More like points for being fucking awesome enough to do it._ **

    The boxes kept commenting back and forth but Deadpool tuned them out, much more interested in the sound he had just heard. He waited a second before his mind made sense of what the sound had been and identified the noise as a gun being shot and a barely withheld scream. There was the usual rush in his blood stream and he wondered what was happening and if he was going to crash the party or not.

     **_We should go check it out. Maybe Spidey will be there!_ ** Yellow exclaimed and that settled the debate of whether they’d be going or not.

    Any chance to see that spandex-clad god was enough motivation for Deadpool. That bootyliscious goodness was just too tempting, regardless of how many times the wall crawler had told him to stop ogling. There was a grace and sexiness to the way the hero moved that just _did it_ for Wade, not to mention his amazing personality, his heart of gold, and the most important fact of not chasing Deadpool off for being himself, well most of the time. The merc with a mouth liked to think of them as friends, but Spidey often kept their relationship to casual-sometimes-friends-but-mostly-business-partners. It was a mouthful so Wade usually just used the term friends.

    With his new-found determination for a chance to talk to Spider-Man, he used the fire escape of a nearby building to reach the roof and began jumping between buildings towards where the sounds had emanated. When he reached what he assumed was the scene of the crime, he looked over the ledge to see a rather ominous looking pool of blood, the disturbing absence of a body, and tire marks where a car had taken off in quite a hurry. There were also two terrified men webbed to a car, both of them talking to the cops in hushed whispers, police combing the area. Wade was about to hop down from the roof to get a better look and maybe inquire with the two men when he heard an agonized whimper to his right. He only had to look to see the ball of red, black, and blue, which would have been amazing if Spidey didn’t look like he was in pain. His blood ran icy and for a second he couldn't move: there was blood pooling on the rooftop and it took him a second to see the wound. He had shot too many people not to understand what that kind of wound was.

    “Oh my god, Spidey. What the fuck happened? You got shot, how the fuck were you shot?” Deadpool bent down and ran his hands in the air above the smaller man’s figure, not touching but trying to help regardless.

    When Spider-Man seemed to realize Deadpool was there, he said his name in a voice that broke in all the wrong ways. It was all Wade could do to not turn and try to track down the fucker who had _hurt his baby boy_.

     **Maybe less killing and more trying to make sure Spidey doesn’t die.** White hummed, the smallest bit of trepidation in his voice.

     **_Oh my god, what are we going to do if he dies? We’re going to burn this entire city until we find the motherfuck-_ **

**** **Again, less killing, more saving.** White interrupted, looking at the wound on Spider-Man’s side.

    “I’m going to move you, baby boy. Just let me take you to the hospital and you’ll be fine.” Wade reached down to scoop up the hero but was met with a jerking flinch.

    “NO! No hospitals. Too dangerous, can’t let them know… who I am.” Spidey managed through clenched teeth.

    “That’s ridiculous. There won’t be an identity to protect if you _die_.” Deadpool tried to reason, again trying to pick up the web head.

    “No, don’t care.”

     **He’s not thinking clearly. We just need to do something before he loses more blood. He can’t heal like us.** White explained, trying to find an adequate solution.

    “But he asked us not to. We can’t do something he asked for us not to do.” Wade whined, obviously torn.

     **_Yeah just like all the times we respected his wishes for us to stop un-aliving people, to start eating things other than tacos, and to stop flirting with him._ **

    “Good point. Sorry baby boy, but you’ve been outvoted. We are taking you to the hospital.” Wade whispered, finally picking his way-too-light friend up off of the rooftop.

    “No…  I don’t wanna die there… If I’m going to die, I don’t wanna… in a hospital.” Spider-Man breathed through gasps and grunts, which would have been sexy if he weren’t bleeding all over Deadpool’s suit.

    That sentence nearly broke Wade’s heart and made his chest feel heavy with the idea that Spidey was dictating where he wanted to die. With that sort of thinking, maybe it was worse than the merc had originally thought. He only hesitated for a second before racing through the city towards the only place he knew to go to that would help Spidey out without asking for information.

    Despite being sheltered by Deadpool’s large frame and the constant body heat he was absorbing, Spider-Man was beginning to get colder. Blood was dripping down the arm that hung limply by his side and Spidey’s head rolled a little too easily with each movement his body was subjected to. In his arms, the male seemed so small, so fragile, so not capable of extreme, death-defying regeneration. It only drove the gun for hire faster as he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, determination pouring from every orifice of his body. It felt like a few decades before he touched down on the fire escape of a building he had only entered a few times, and mostly just to ask after the owner’s acquaintance. Today, he was looking for the resident.

    Wade rapped on the window with a little more force than he had intended but only waited a few seconds before he rose his elbow to bash in the glass. Luckily for her, the woman who lived there came to the window with a stiff and sleepy gate before he could bring his elbow down. When she saw who was staring at her, she snapped to attention and jerked it open, “Oh my god, what happened?”

    “Gunshot to the side. I need your help, I couldn’t take him to the ER. He protested to the idea.” Wade grunted as he squeezed himself through the opening, trying his hardest not to jostle his precious cargo.

    “Fuck, of course he objected. Him and Matt both need to realize that without proper medical tools, I can’t guarantee their lives.” the woman exclaimed, though she was already busy preparing a space on her couch and gathering the necessary tools from another room.

    “Thank you so much, Claire. I owe you for this.” he said, setting down Spidey, who was a little too quiet for his liking.

    Claire returned with her medical gear and set about tearing the suit from around the wound with practiced hands. Dabbing at the hole in his side, she used sterilized water to clean away most of the blood. Once she was satisfied that she could see the wound clearly enough, she prepared what looked like miniature tweezers and a small metal stick. She looked up at Deadpool for a moment, “This is going to hurt him. A lot. I need you to restrain him please.”

    Wade didn’t hesitate for a second before gripping Spider-Man’s arms. He steeled himself in preparation for the screams, the jolting, the begging for it to stop. He knew they didn’t have time to apply anesthesia but it didn’t make this any easier. The nurse was bending over the smaller hero when she began working as diligently as she could to remove the bullet, hoping it hadn’t shattered inside of him.

    Spidey didn’t stir at first, until Clair started poking near where the bullet was lodged. The scream that tore from the wall crawler was enough to give even Wade nightmares and the sheer helpless, confused, and pained sounds that wove into the scream almost had Deadpool going limp. But to protect himself, Claire, and Spidey himself from what the web head was capable of in this state of mind, Wade held tight. With a grunt of effort, he had to apply most of his strength to keep his baby boy pinned, a little shocked by just how strong Spider-Man was. He had known the guy could fight with the best of them, but actually testing their strength against one another was taxing and it made him oddly proud, but the feeling was lost with the continued screams.

    Claire’s forehead glistened with her concentration, her hands never once faltering, even with her patient moving around as he did. Deadpool was impressed with her level of commitment to this stranger, treating him merely because the merc knew Daredevil and had come looking for him a few times, never having exchanged more than a few pleasantries with her. The gun for hire decided he liked her, enough to not kill her if he were presented with the option. Good people like her probably wouldn’t have hits on them anyway, unless the hit was from a bad guy, but then Wade wouldn’t have taken a hit from a bad guy. In his musings, he didn’t realize that almost ten minutes had passed and that she was no closer to extracting the bullet than she had been before his thoughts had taken him away from reality. But Wade was able to see the exact moment she did get ahold of the projectile because her face lit up. With all things considered, she had found it within a relatively short amount of time and managed to extract the whole thing, sighing when she found it intact.

    There was a light _tink_ sound as she dropped the bullet into a bowl, placing her tools to the side and immediately pressing a piece of cloth to the still weeping wound. She glanced at the merc and he nodded, replacing her hands without so much as a question. Claire was getting up and walking towards the back of her apartment, tossing the gloves she had donned and placing the tools and bowl in the kitchen for proper disposal and maintenance later. She was only gone less than a minute but it felt like a lifetime to Wade, who was trying his hardest not to listen to the labored breaths of the man beneath him.

     **He’s going to be fine. Claire would have said something if she didn’t think she could save him. She would have made you take him to the hospital.** White offered, trying to pretend there wasn’t a strain in his voice.

     **_Look at our baby boy, look at him! He’s not okay, we’re not okay, but he’s definitely not okay!_ ** Yellow wasn’t even trying to hide his desperation.

    “You can move your hands now.” Claire’s voice interrupted his inner dialogue and Wade complied, taking his hands away and looking at the blood soaked palms.

    Deadpool’s hands had been doused in blood before, this was nothing new. But having it be Spidey’s blood? This had never happened before and he felt inches away from murdering every person in the city until he found the one responsible.

     **_Yes!_ ** Yellow’s guttural growl complemented the feeling in Wade and he turned back towards the window, already halfway out when Claire’s voice called out to him.

    “Where are you going?” her concern was evident and her voice just a tad unsure.

    “To find the person who did this to him and string their entrails up like Christmas lights.” Deadpool responded in an even voice.

    “Don’t you care that he’ll wake up in a room that he doesn’t know, with a person he doesn’t know, _without_ the last person he had contact with before he passed out?” she asked, hands on her hips, obviously a little more scared at the prospect of his abandonment than she was letting on.

    “Of course I care, but every second that I’m here is a second they are getting away.” Wade growled behind him and Claire flinched.

     **_Why are we hesitating?!_ ** Yellow roared.

    “What if he dies while you’re gone?” Claire asked softly, trying not to be present so as to avoid Deadpool’s anger, but also just present enough to try to convince him to stay.

     **That’s why.**

    “That’s why.”

     **_Oh…_ ** A much calmer Yellow responded, almost defeated sounding.

    The merc debated his options. He had always been able to find his prey, no matter how well they hid or how far away they ran. But Spidey needed him, and Wade wasn’t about to walk out on the hero. So with a little more effort than he was comfortable with, he pried himself from the window and walked back to stand next to the couch.

    “I’ll get you some coffee. I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep until he wakes?” her voice was soft and understanding and Wade nodded his head to her offer.

    In the meantime, he plopped down on the floor, leaning against the couch. His head was near where Spidey’s was so he listened intently to the breathing that was somewhat ragged but at least held a rhythm. He didn’t remember when the web head had passed out but he was grateful on the other’s part: the less he had to suffer the better.

    When Claire returned ten minutes later with hand brewed Brazilian coffee, Wade hunkered down with a blanket that had been folded on another chair and contented himself to planning out exactly what he would do to the person who had made Spidey hurt, placing Bea and Arthur in his lap very carefully and maliciously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Whelp, that probably could have gone better. I will make no lies I'm a sleep deprived college student and this was written rather hastily in between papers and studying. I'm doing a hybrid class online for those of you questioning why I'm already working even though the semester hasn't started yet.))


	3. The Bad News And The Worse News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((So Spiderman gets some pretty sad news, but he's lucky to be alive so he can't complain... right? Also sorry for the random spacing issues. This site doesn't want to work well with me so I'm sort of forced to leave the spacing issue alone.))

    Peter had been in so much pain. He had never been shot before, well shot like that. When he had been picked up by Deadpool, he had been afraid of being taken to the hospital. That fear, the fear of being there with all the people he had cared about, watching them die, it caused him to flinch away from the thought of being in the sterilized room, the smell of death all around him. If he was going to die, then he didn’t want to be _there_. Deadpool had been so adamant about taking him to see a doctor, sounding more than a little upset when Peter had refused the idea.

    But Wade had kept his promise and Peter could tell that they were nowhere he had been before, but at least they weren’t at a hospital. His head was swimming, his breaths coming in too hot. Peter wanted to take off his mask but his arms were suddenly being held by strong hands that gave no inches. He had been so confused as to why he was being held down until the pain erupted at his side. His scream came unbidden to him and no matter how hard he had struggled, how much he had tried to say something to Deadpool, he couldn’t do anything but writhe in his agony.

    It had been a long time before he realized that the pain was lessening until Peter could almost slip into sleep. Except sleep was impossible given he was still struggling to merely breathe and he wanted reassurance that he wasn’t dead. But everything was painful and he wasn’t sure exactly if his movements were even registering in the physical plane.

    Somewhere in the time that elapsed after his ordeal, he must have slept, somehow. He recalled dreaming of when he was a child, how he had often gone out to tend flowers with his mother before… His father had joined them too, despite his aversion to dirt and heat. It had been so peaceful then. But the dream had twisted and turned into something that had pulsed with the pain in his side: the Green Goblin, Doctor Octavius, and even the Lizard were all causing mayhem in the city and Peter was unable to do a damn thing about it.

    The waking up was almost as bad as the dreamscape he had been subjected to, with all the unknown smells, the sunlight pouring over his face, and the sounds of fervent arguing somewhere behind him. He was forced to close his eyes again, trying to cope with one problem at a time. His wound was pulsing with each breath he took and it was all he could do to look at it before he was having to rest again. The wound was covered with gauze, his torso wrapped in bandages, his suit having been pulled down to his waist, mask left in place. The movement of his head had made him nauseous and the youth had to count to twenty before he was sure he wouldn’t throw up. Fighting to keep whatever was in his stomach, well, in his stomach, he closed his eyes again, feeling itchy in his suit after having worn it for the entirety of his stay at wherever he was.

    His throat was dry, his body too hot but also too cold, his muscles sore from being locked in one place, causing him to move to try to get comfortable. Peter was able to find his voice then, hissing out a crying groan as his side touched something, possibly fabric. There were hands on him immediately, the touch gentle and probing.

    “... senses dulled? Hey… can you… Spider-Man?” the voice was light and reassuring so he concentrated on that until he could make out more than garbled speech.

    “Okay, honey, you’re fine, you’re okay. Try not to move around again, the wound is still trying to heal.” the voice said, smoothing a hand over his arm.

    It was so comforting, such an achingly familiar gesture that his body threw the word out before his mind could catch up, “Mom.”

    The sound was hoarse, caught between confusion and relief, interrupted by a voice break. It took him a moment before he could open his eyes to see a very concerned woman bending over him, her dark hair and eyes warm. The sun shone around her, making her look heavenly, her tanned skin smooth and gentle against his bare arm. But in his observations, he realized this woman was a stranger, and not in fact his dead mother, “Ah… sorry. I didn’t mean-”

    “It’s fine, it was kind of cute. Sometimes my patients have that response when waking up, but they are usually younger.” she said softly, glancing behind Peter and then back.

    There was a pull in his chest, his subconscious trying to get him to look at memories dredged up. But he refused, not wanting to focus on the mother who had never gotten to be there for Peter for more than a few years of his life, instead turning his attention to whatever the woman had glanced at. Peter couldn’t see behind the couch but he certainly could feel the presence that loomed behind it: a raging, seething mass of murder. Yet it wasn’t directed at Peter, his spider senses would have been going haywire were that the case.

    “Deadpool?” his question was hesitant, like he almost didn’t want to ask.

    “I’m right here, baby boy.” the voice of the merc came after a second, the sound straining to be gentle and pleasant.

    The woman in front of him stood and walked over to Wade, whispering something she probably didn’t think Peter could hear, “Go to him. Comfort him. He will heal more easily if he’s not worried about you.”

    There was the sound of retreating footsteps and a door opening and closing, then silence for a while. When nothing happened for a few more seconds, Spider-Man attempted to sit up, his body screaming and his mind reeling. He got a few inches off the couch before a hand was pushing him back down, the owner hovering over the arachnid. Deadpool didn’t speak, his aura still black and dangerous, his muscles taut under his suit.

    “Deadpool?” Peter tried, gaining no response.

    “Deadpool?” Peter tried again, yielding more silence.

    Peter reached up and touched the merc’s arm hesitantly, “Wade?”

    This caused a stir in the man, who actually looked at Peter instead of the bandaged wound on his side. It was clear the gun for hire was frowning, his body language signaling confusion and anger, “I’m sorry Spidey, the boxes are going crazy… You used my name finally, man you must be all out of sorts. How do you feel?” the aura began to recede as he focused his attention on Peter.

    “I’ve been better. I think I overdid it this time around.” Peter mumbled, taking a shaky breath.

    “You look terrible.” Wade murmured, ghosting a hand over the wound.

    “So do you. When was the last time you showered or slept?” the college student asked, trying to follow Deadpool’s gaze, trying to keep him in reality so that the dark aura wouldn't return.

    “Let’s see, you’ve been unconscious for the better part of three days. So I had a lot of coffee, a few pieces of pizza, and a piece of toast. I haven’t slept since I brought you here… Wait, you’re right. We slept for a few hours yesterday night when Claire promised to watch you.” Wade explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

    “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I should have known better but I was just too stupid.” Peter felt so remorseful: not only had he gotten shot, but he had inconvenienced Deadpool and imposed on a woman he didn’t even know.

    “You don’t need to apologize. It isn’t your fault that someone shot you. It’s their fault for shooting you. I’m going to make them pay, I just need to make sure you’ll be okay first.” Deadpool’s voice was strained, the words holding back a much darker intent.

    “This isn’t something you have to worry about, I can take care of it.” Peter responded, dread building up in his chest.

    “No, you don’t understand Spidey. I _have_ to kill them. I have to take care of this. Claire said you almost died. The second day you stopped breathing and Claire resuscitated you but just barely. We couldn’t do anything except sit there and watch,” Deadpool looked so serious, so deadly serious that it made Peter shudder, his spider senses alerting him even though he was positive Wade’s aggression was not centered on him, “I can’t let the person that did this to you continue to breath precious oxygen. I won’t let them hurt you or anyone else like you, ever again.”

    “Listen to me. I know I scared you, I know you want them to pay. I get that, I’d probably be just as furious if our places were reversed… well maybe not since you heal from anything. But let’s just say you didn’t: yeah I’d be livid. But you can’t be judge, jury, and executioner. You can’t kill him.” Peter found himself nearly pleading, grabbing Wade’s wrist for all he was worth.

    Peter knew that if he let Wade leave, if he let the mercenary carry out his plan, that man would undoubtedly die. He couldn’t let that happen. The youth already had enough blood on his hands, he didn’t want anymore if he could help it. Even as he tried to stop the merc, there was the sound of a door opening and closing, and then footsteps, “Jeez, I thought I told you to ease his worries, not make him worse! Stress isn’t good for him; look, his wound reopened.”

    Claire’s voiced pierced the tense silence that had fallen between the two heroes, her hands working to tighten the gauze around the wound, gaining a hissing gasp from the arachnid. The woman glanced up apologetically at the masked youth, her ministrations finally letting up as she was satisfied. She turned to Wade and crossed her arms, her back to Spider-Man. He could only guess as to the expression she wielded in order to get Deadpool to sit in the love seat next to the couch, almost looking resigned.

    “Alright, fine. I’ll stay… for now.” Wade murmured, more to himself than to the two others present.

    “Okay, Spider-Man, I have some good news and bad news. The good news is that your healing factor is doing wonders and you’re recovering at an accelerated rate. The bad news is the bullet went all the way to the internal oblique muscle group: it tore through three layers of muscle. This means you’re going to be recovering for a while, even with a fancy healing factor.” Claire informed the wall crawler, who merely nodded dully, though her voice was tightened.

    “What should I do about my… civilian affairs?” Peter asked more than a little miserable at the thought.

    “Well, what are you worrying about?” Claire asked softly.

    “I’ve got college, bills, work, which I’m probably already fired from, and… I have family that’s probably worried sick.” the youth confessed.

    Claire crossed her arms and bit her lip, the silence thick and heavy as she tried to bring up something she was hesitant to. Finally her shifting weight got enough for everyone and she sighed, “I could give you a valid doctor’s note. The only problem is that I’d need your name.”

    The tenseness in the atmosphere was palpable, each person holding their breath as they glanced from each other to anything else in the room to avoid eye contact. Peter’s life would be ruined if he didn’t go through with this and it would also be nice to have a medical practitioner be able to treat his mortal injuries without question. So Peter steeled himself and reached up behind his mask, pulling the spandex from his face slowly.

    “My name is Peter Parker.” his voice wavered but did not break, much to his pleasure.

 

~~~

 

    **No…**

**_Fucking…_ **

    “Way!?” Wade gasped, jumping up like he had been shocked.

    Wade ignored the two’s confused looks and kept going, “Are you telling me that you’re that skinny, overworked, barely-gets-any-sleep boy who brings me mountains of pizza using one hand somehow?! Spidey, oh my god!” Wade exclaimed, throwing his arms skyward before rubbing his neck with both hands.

    “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but… I have someone to protect. The less people that know who Spider-Man is, the better.” Peter explained, wincing at what must have been a particularly bad spike of pain.

    “Alright, well I will start drawing up the papers and I’ll drop them off at the appropriate places later. For now, um, I’ll be in the back.” and then the nurse was walking away, her purpose determined.

    It was a while before Peter or Wade said anything, both waiting to see if the other was going to speak first. Deadpool stared a while, trying to connect his pizza boy with the superhero that regularly fought alongside him. Peter squirmed under his stare after a while, obviously growing a little uncomfortable but the merc couldn’t bring himself to stop.

    “I’ll have to start requesting you at your workplace.” Wade mumbled, his tone serious and informative.

     **_Did we just seriously find out that our cute little delivery boy is actually Spider-Man?! Can this day get ANY better? Now we don’t have to feel like we are betraying Spider-Man by ogling at Peter. It’s a win-win._ ** Yellow exclaimed, practically throwing rock fists into the air with his words.

     **Is that all you care about? I thought we wanted him to tell us his identity when he was ready, not when he was forced to. We could have forced him to reveal his identity at any time. But we didn’t because free will is sexy, remember?** White reminded them, his tone edging on annoyance.

     **_So, he was placed under duress? Well fuck, I mean he still technically did it willingly._ ** Yellow tried, sounding pitifully whiny.

    “Guys shut up, I’m staring at Peter’s face.” Wade mumbled, his eyes finding the hazel eyes that didn’t blink, his tousled brown hair that was still adorable even after having been under the mask, his cute nose and freckles that added to his ‘nerd’ look, and those perfectly curved lips, which were currently frowning.

    “Deadpool, listen, I-” Peter began, again trying to get up.

    “Not another word. Lay down, try to get more sleep. We can talk about this later. What’s important right now is for you to get rest,” and then upon seeing the worried, pinched expression added, “I won’t leave while you’re asleep.”

    “You promise?” his voice was hard, steady, not a trace of the wavering boy he was a second ago. He had switched so quickly to his other persona, even without the mask on, his eyes boiling with a determination and a fear: a fear that Wade would kill someone.

    “I’m many things, but I’m not a liar, Peter.” Wade responded, oddly proud of the youth for his convictions.

    “Alright.” came the much more exhausted response, the boy putting his head back on the pillow, face twisted in the pain he must have been paying attention to again.

    The merc settled himself on the love seat, feet planted squarely on the ground, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped and bumping against his mouth in worry. He wanted to make sure Peter was asleep before he moved, hoping that the web head could find sleep more easily than Wade could.

     **_Everyone can find sleep more easily than you, mostly because they don’t have voices in their heads or fucked up demons fighting for their attention every hour._ **

    The gun for hire paid the box no mind, his eyes locking in on Peter, observing his breathing. He could hear that Peter was struggling to take in oxygen from the airy, small gasps he occasionally made, though Claire had informed him that it was normal and nothing to be worried about unless it grew worse. Deadpool had sat awake for three days listening to that breathing, jumping when it wavered by even the slightest interval. He had practically memorized the pattern in the breaths and just how hard it was for each intake to pass through Peter’s lungs. So he was surprised when not but more than ten minutes after their conversation, the boy’s chest began rising and falling rhythmically and decidedly more slowly. Wade let his breath go softly, standing with perfect silence when he was assured the other male was asleep. That was the youth for you: they could fall asleep at any time whenever they wanted.

    Wade began walking towards where Claire had gone, the layout of the house a rather simplistic one that he had memorized within the first few hours of being there, mostly so he knew where the vulnerable parts of the space where. There was the window they had come through the first night, which was decidedly way too close to the sofa in Wade’s opinion and he hadn’t wanted to leave Spider-Man there. Claire had assured him that if they tried to move the web head any more that it would be greatly detrimental to his health, especially after she had already bandaged and treated him. The sofa was across from a loveseat that looked well used, a table and a sparse rug separating the two pieces. It was like eight steps to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a counter, a small window above the sink that Wade chose not to trust. The door was just behind the couch on the right and a hall lead behind the kitchen to the two bedrooms, which had windows of their own.

    So many places bad things could come through, so many options for a killer to choose from in order to finish off Spidey. It made Wade on edge, his katanas always on his back, gun always holstered but all three mere seconds from being drawn at all times. He had scared the piss out of Claire on the second night when she had got up to use the facilities, her sleep muddled brain obviously having forgotten that Deadpool was busy guarding every square inch of the house. The creaky floorboards had alerted him of her presence and he had gone to investigate, only to scare them both when he rounded the corner, pistol drawn. She had screamed and jumped about ten feet backwards, something he had only seen Spidey do before. When she had asked what the fuck he had been doing, he had replied with his usual ‘I was making sure you weren’t a hit man.’ She hadn’t been pleased.

    Just thinking about that made him chuckle a bit as he passed the bathroom, reaching her bedroom and grabbing the doorknob.

     **Ah, knock first. She is a woman after all, a woman that helped save Peter’s life.** White reminded him.

    Wade shrugged and knocked gently with his knuckles, “Hey, do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior-”

    The door was opened and an exasperated Claire looked at him questioningly, “What do you want?”

    “Well since you asked, I was hoping you’d let me know where Daredevil is… I want to call in a favor.” Wade asked, trying to be all cute by leaning on the doorframe, his voice all smiles and flowers.

    “Cut the crap, I know you’re going after the one who shot him. Peter asked you not to so I’m not in the mindset to tell you where Daredevil is. Besides, even if I did want to help you, we’re not exactly… speaking right now. He chose to go down a path I didn’t agree with and so our relationship was strained. He probably isn’t going to know anything anyway.” Claire explained, her eyes looking through Wade as she spoke.

    “Don’t worry, Daredevil will be able to help me just fine. And I’m sure you can find a way to contact him. You always do.” Wade explained, pushing off the doorframe and walking casually into the room.

    It was sparse: a bed, a desk, a nightstand, dressers, and a closet. It wouldn’t have been Wade’s first choice in living spaces but he figured it might feel homey to someone who didn’t fear the things he feared, “This space is too vulnerable, too hard to defend, too small to fight in.” he commented slowly, eyeing the windows.

    “Peter needs a place that can be easily defended. Somewhere like your place, I’d imagine.” Claire said, that tautness in her voice again.

     **Is she suggesting Peter should live with us? That he would need our protection?** White asked, all emotion devoid from his voice.

     **_I mean the only reason Spidey would need to live with us would be if…_ ** Yellow began, his voice teetering off as all three realized what Claire was saying.

    “Hey, doc? When you told Spider-Man that he would take longer to heal, you sounded… off. Why was that?” Deadpool asked, staring out the window so that he wouldn’t need to look her in the face.

    She didn’t answer him for a long time and Wade balled his hands into fists, looking over his shoulder at her. Still she did not answer, merely walking over to the desk in the corner, shuffling through some papers before pulling out a document and gesturing for the merc to have a look. With slow, paced steps, Wade crossed the small distance and picked up the paper, not taking his eyes off a squirming, downtrodden Claire until the paper was in front of his face.

    “The healing factor he has, it’s stopping the rest of him from being damaged and I was lucky to get the bullet out of him when I did so the damage wouldn’t spread. It was coated in something, a venom of some sort and it’s nullifying his healing abilities. I can’t say for sure about his other powers but I believe they weren’t affected… but that being said, the boy was still shot. He won’t be going anywhere or doing anything Spider-Man related for a long time. Whoever shot him wanted him out of the picture, if not permanently then for enough time for something big.” She explained, plopping down in the chair and spinning lightly, her exhaustion showing.

    “When did you manage to find all this out?” Deadpool asked softly, a hand running over the words that basically confirmed what she had said, except in much more complicated doctor-speak.

    “I ran tests on the bullet and the blood in the bowl from when I operated. What, you didn’t think I was just in here sleeping, did you?” her voice sounded a little offended, her eyes carrying the same sentiment when Wade shrugged.

    “So you’re saying he needs a place to rest, that he will need help rehabilitating, and that whoever did this to him did it for a specific reason?” Wade murmured, finally putting the paper down with a rather definitive bang and swish.

    “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

    “Oh he’s going to _love_ this,” the dreading, self deprecating sarcasm tumbled from the merc as he turned towards the window again, “yeah I’m going to need to talk to Daredevil immediately.

    “Alright, I’ll try to contact him.” her voice sounded resigned.

     **_So, party at our place?_ ** Yellow tested, voice filled with anticipation.

     **If you consider consoling a temporarily decommissioned superhero while trying to stop a villain from what might possibly be city annihilation a party, then yes. Party at our place.** White commented in a disgusted, apprehensive voice.

     **_Fuck yes!_ ** Yellow ignored most of what White had said, instead focusing on the fact that Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker, was going to be bunking with them for a while.

    “Any tips on how to break the news to him?” Wade asked, glancing at Claire.

    She deliberated a moment before answering, “With a cup of tea?”

 

~~~

 

    The mug shattered against the wall, leaving a dent and a rather large tea stain as Peter had thrown it, face full of rage. But beneath that, the boy was utterly broken, his head hanging low, hands balled into fists. He hoped that Deadpool couldn’t see his shoulders shaking or tell that he wanted to cry. Even running his hands over his face and through his hair didn’t calm him. Deadpool had helped him sit up and that alone had taken most of the male’s strength and willpower just to accomplish.

    “I guess the tea didn’t help… listen, this isn’t permanent, at least Claire doesn’t think it is. But she says you can’t be alone for a while, like ever. If that wound reopens while you’re trying to do stuff, you could die. She thinks you should come live with me.” Deadpool offered, staying in the loveseat he had settled in to break the news to the arachnid.

    “I can’t just leave my life and recuperate. I have so many things to worry about. How am I not supposed to flunk college now, how am I supposed to keep my shitty apartment with no income?” Peter asked, wincing as his voice sounded much more miserable than he had intended.

    “Claire and I already handled that. She sent the note to the college along with an explanation, excluding the fact that Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Same with your job and the apartment you’re staying in. The story is you got caught up in a discrete heist and were shot in the side, you’re recovering in a facility that specializes in wounds from more advanced tech, and that you don’t know when you’re going to be able to return. The messages were sent a few hours ago. Claire already received word from the college: they are not going to penalize you for the time it takes for you to recover.” Wade said, still remaining seated, his eyes undoubtedly on Peter.

    “What if I don’t want to leave my place?” Peter questioned, eyeing the masked man before him.

    “Well I wouldn’t stop you but I’d be moving in with you. I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself with the possibility of you bleeding out still on the table.”

    The web head was silent for a very long time, his thoughts conflicting, his brain going into overdrive. But the presence in front of him was calming and quiet, a ridiculous juxtaposition to how Wade normally was and how Peter felt then. He knew he didn’t have funds or luxuries that Deadpool had and that he would probably heal better if he weren’t freezing to death. Glancing at his hands and sighing, he made up his mind, “When are we leaving?”

    “The taxi is waiting down on the street, don’t worry he’s being paid well to sit there for as long as you need… until you’re ready to move.” Wade responded, making no move to get up, to hurry Peter into making a decision he didn’t want to make.

    He realized then that the merc was being extraordinarily courteous, thinking about Peter before himself. Here he was, opening his home at the drop of a hat to a man that hardly ever paid him mind when it wasn’t convenient for him. Peter felt burdened, not only with his own troubles, but with the thought of such a person having to deal with the broken man that Peter had become. It wasn’t fair to him.

    “Wade… you don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t owe me anything, especially not after what you did for me on the rooftop. If not for you, I’d be dead. I owe you, not the other way around.” Peter said, finally looking up and into the face of Deadpool’s mask.

    “You’re cute.” Deadpool murmured, his face obviously twisting into an angry smile.

    “What?” the wall crawler asked, his brows knitting together.

    The gun for hire finally stood, his arms crossing over his chest as he laughed without any humor, “You think I owe you nothing? How about I owe you for being there for me when no one else would, for believing in the side of me that people said died when I got my powers. Do you remember when we met? Do you remember what you told me? You said that everyone had good in them and that my strength, my power, was a gift. But you said that it wasn’t a gift for me, no the powers are not a gift to the people who wield them, but to the people that those powers are used to save. I began walking on a path I had forgotten that I could even approach, a path where I didn’t have to be the bad guy. You gave me hope when all I had was the blood on my hands and the screams in my head. So no, let’s try that again, Spidey.” Deadpool said, sounding exhausted.

    The man’s words shook the youth to his core, the idea that he had so profoundly affected the mercenary before him, that he had already begun to change, was mind boggling. He couldn’t grasp that Deadpool thought so highly of him, even with all the flirting and the following around, “I didn’t know… I didn’t know that. I just always pictured you dealing with me because I happened to show up at your jobs sometimes. I thought I just made your hits harder, that you didn’t like having me around.”

    “Spidey, you’re the best hero I know, and I know a fucking shit ton of heroes. None of them have the heart you do, none of them care like you do. You save everyone, even your fucking enemies. No one does that, not even Captain America does that. You can do anything you put that gorgeous mind to… I read up on your file and found out that you’re like a fucking super genius as well as a crime fighting extraordinaire.”

    The silence that fell between them was not as tense as it was before, but it was laced with emotions, fears, and expectations, “No one’s ever believed in me like that, except for maybe Uncle Ben. Thank you, Wade… I think I’m ready to go now.”

    “Then let’s get you home, baby boy.”

    Peter tried to move slowly at first, his arms taking the brunt of his weight as he pushed off the couch, Deadpool there in half a heartbeat, ready to catch the spider if he fell. The arachnid silently thanked the merc for not immediately extending a hand to help, for respecting his unspoken wish to try to stand by himself. Each movement was agonizing, each muscle twitch an explosion of pain that ricocheted through his body. When he was finally standing upright, he was beading sweat, his skin flushed from his exertions.

    “Think you can make it to the car?” his friend asked gently, no judgement present in his words.

    “Maybe… I hope.” the youth replied, already beginning the journey to the door, one step at a time.

    “Well, there goes my mug, I guess.” Claire’s voice came from behind them as she began picking up the pieces of the shattered beverage holder, obviously having returned from her room during their talk.

    “I’m so sorry, I’ll get you a new one.” Peter offered, feeling suddenly embarrassed at his lost temper from moments before.

    “Don’t apologize, I’m just glad you aren’t trying to do things that’ll make that wound reopen. Remember, I’m not going to be there. If it get’s bad, you _have_ to go to the hospital. I’ve done all I can do and you’re just going to have to wait for it to heal,” Claire said, patting Petter on the head and tousling his hair before glancing down, “you’re not planning on leaving half naked with the Spider-Man suit dragging behind you, are you?”

    Peter glanced down and frowned, “Hadn’t thought about that.”

    “Listen, the guy in the cab is an old friend, he’s not going to bat an eye if I bring Spider-Man into the cab with me. Just pull the suit back on and it’ll be fine.” Wade explained, bringing the suit up form around Peter’s waist and helping him to get it on correctly.

    Claire handed the arachnid a folded piece of cloth and spare gauze, “Hold that against the wound whenever you move, change your gauze every few hours when you notice that the blood is soaking through it.”

    Spider-Man nodded, bringing his hand to the cloth, holding it against the wound with careful hands. Then the pair were leaving out the door, granted slowly, as Claire watched, her soft and sensitive stare giving Peter some strength. She had done enough, more than enough for him, and he owed her his life. Her and Deadpool both. But he didn’t begrudge that, not in the slightest. He looked forward to repaying them, seeing their eyes when he gets to return the favor. That’s what he lived for: other people’s happiness.

    The pair made it to the elevator and then down and through the lobby without incident, though many people pointed and whispered, some in worry at the way Spider-Man limped along, others in complete and blissful ignorance. Peter suspected half of them thought they may just be actors or perhaps just dressing up as the two heroes to garner attention. It probably wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. When they reached the curbside, there was a car waiting there, Deadpool opened the door for Peter, helping him in despite the small amount of protest Spider-Man tried to issue.

    “Where to Mr. Pool?” Dopinder questioned, looking back at the man expectantly.

    “My place if you don’t mind.” Wade responded, crossing his legs like a business man while the car pulled out from in front of Claire’s apartment.


	4. Emotions Of The Unrequited Variety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade takes care of Peter and get's some help from Daredevil. Somewhere along the way, Wade admits he's been catching feelings. Peter may or may not be accepting of that. Who knows?

    “Home sweet home.” Deadpool exclaimed as he opened the taxi door.

    “Deadpool, it’s gotta be like five in the evening, don’t yell. I'm sure everyone getting home from work would appreciate some peace and quiet.” Spider-Man berated, managing to swing his legs around and stand.

    “Naw, baby boy. It’s,” Wade pulled out his phone and must have glanced at the time before shoving it back into one of his pockets, “4:48, but you were close.”

    “Really, Deadpool, really?” the youth asked as he began to walk towards the apartment, feeling more mobile the more he walked.

    “See you later Dopinder, say hello to Gita for me.” the merc called before the taxi was driving off again.

    Peter managed a few steps before he got ballsy and tried to take a larger step, resulting in pain from the wound and the buckling of his knees. A strong arm was there to catch him, his weight pitching into it yet the strength beneath him ever ebbed. But even with the support, there was no way his legs were going to be holding him up again.

    “Yep, figured as much. Doc said too much physical strain would be bad. We will work on your physical therapy later but, for now, I got you baby boy.” Wade said softly, picking up Peter from where he was busy crumpling in on himself.

    When his feet were taken out from under him, he protested but wasn’t able to squirm around to prevent the larger hero from picking him up. As much as Spider-Man was loath to be carried bridal style all the way up to Deadpool’s apartment, even he had to accept that he couldn’t just fling himself into physical activity. His nervous system must have been damaged from the bullet with the way the rest of his body wasn’t wanting to work properly. But still, he felt a little humiliated at being carried so.

    “Don’t fight it, you could get yourself hurt.” Wade explained as he carried the spider through the broken building.

    “Remind me why I agreed to come to your place instead of mine?” Peter grumbled, glaring at the stains.

    “Well, the outside may look gross but the inside isn’t all that bad. Maybe a bit dirtier than I'm sure that your place is but I think you’ll find that it is comfortable enough. Plus, even if I haven’t been to your place I believe that mine is much more secure than yours. If anyone tracks you here, there’s only a few ways in and they are all extremely well defended.” the merc responded, crossing the threshold and into the apartment after kicking the door in.

    “No lock?” Peter noted with question.

    “Never had anything to fear or protect. Now I guess I better look into getting that old lock replaced,” he sad as he waded through the weapons, trash, and clothes, “don’t worry about the mess, I’ll have it cleaned up when you wake up next.”

    Peter had only ever seen the inside of the apartment form spared glances over Wade’s shoulder whenever he delivered for him so seeing the layout then was more surprising than he wanted to admit. The front door opened to the living room where the sofa and coffee table sat underneath a bare wall, the cushions piled high with weapons and ammunition. The television was situated to the left, along with a hall just a bit further in. A kitchen stood the farthest in, facing the door, the counters covered in used dishes and takeout containers. But Wade took him past all of that and down the hall and into the bedroom, the clutter pushed towards half the room, the other half and the bed almost untouched.

    “I have to keep some part of my life straightened, this is where I don’t compromise. I read somewhere that a clean and tidy resting place promotes restful sleep.” Wade explained, placing Peter down on the bed, letting him sit upright.

    “We should have swung by my apartment so I could have grabbed my things.” Peter sighed, pulling off his dirty mask.

    “I’ll never get used to it,” Wade breathed before shaking his head, “we should get you out of this grimy suit. I don’t think we want your wound to get infected from the suit itself.”

    Peter nodded and they both sat there for a few seconds, each looking at the other before Peter cleared his throat, “Uh, I got it from here.”

    “You can’t bend over like that. I suspect you’re going to need some help.” Wade said, his head tilting to the side, sounding serious.

    “Uh, no, no I’m okay.” Peter stammered, suddenly keenly aware that he had gone commando three days ago.

    “I’m not taking no for an answer, Spidey. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” the merc explained, reaching for the collar of the suit.

    “No, I mean I don’t have anything… um, I’m not wearing any…” Peter stammered and then was interrupted by a laugh.

    Wade doubled over with the laugh that was shaking his frame, trembling uncontrollably. Peter could feel his shoulders redden with how embarrassed he was, his body trembling with his shame instead of joy. When he righted himself, he held out his hands and then laughed some more, gasping for breath, “P-Petey, you’re not wearing… any underwear?!”

    Peter was burning with the indignation, “W-Wade, stop laughing. I’m ser-”

    “Listen, Spidey. I’m not laughing at your embarrassment, I’m just laughing at how cute you are right now. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. Just let me help.” Wade turned up his hands, gesturing for the webbed wonder to let him assist.

    He knew Wade was correct, that he couldn’t possibly get the suit off without tearing the thin layer of skin that was covering his wound. So he placed his hand to his right side, over the gauze, and groaned internally before nodding slowly, eyes downcast. He expected the merc’s usual gruffness but the hands that took hold of the collar were gentle, even careful as they began to peel the suit down. It felt amazing for the air to brush up against his skin, the cold like heaven. The suit came a little less easy from around his wound and waist, but Wade was careful not to move fast. Peter had expected lust and flirtation, not the pure business-like approach the merc was taking. There was no hesitation, no giggling, nothing but silence as the suit came all the way off. It was almost flattering that Wade respected him enough to take his time, to not treat this as a sexual situation. But it didn’t make it any easier to be completely nude in front of the older man.

    “I will say this, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, baby boy,” and before Peter could respond, Wade was fishing through the dresser that was tucked inside one corner, free from the mess of the weapons and trash from the right side of the room, “these should fit you well enough, I would say. I accidentally shrunk them last wash.”

    And then the taco-loving man was back in front of him, pulling up a pair of boxers that, even if they had been shrunk, were still large on Peter’s thin and lean frame. The movement required to pull up the boxers was a little painful but the arachnid toughed through it, remembering the pain of actually being shot and scoffing at the minor discomfort he was feeling then. When the waistband sat correctly around Peter, Wade offered a shirt he had pulled out from the closet on his way over from the dresser. It was a grey shirt that sported a logo long since faded, the letters a ghost of their former selves. The article of clothing was likewise too large for Peter, the neck of the shirt showing off his collar bones with how low it hung. It resembled a dress more than anything on the youth.

    “Alright, now please try to sleep. Don’t worry, I’m taking the couch. This is now your space… just tell me when you’re going to come out there okay? Wouldn’t want you to catch me with my pants down, or really any of my suit off of my body.” Deadpool requested as he began to walk to the door.

    “I know about your skin, Wade. I don’t care that you’re scarred.” Peter called after him, laying his head against the pillow.

    “That’s what you say now, baby boy, but just reserve your judgement for when you actually see it.” Deadpool scoffed, his hand on the doorknob.

    “Does that mean you’ll eventually show me?” the web slinger asked curiously.

    The gun for hire was silent for a while before he ducked his head as he retreated from the room, “Goodnight, Spidey.”

    Peter took comfort in the darkness that enveloped him but sleep was not easy to come by, not anymore. Asking for a full night’s rest was like asking crime to stop in NYC for a few days: it wasn’t happening. The only reason he had slept at all during those few days he had been unconscious was because his body forced it. Quieting his thoughts usually took a few hours on his good nights, but more often taking the entire night, which left him with no sleep and a troubled mind.

    But snuggling down into the sheets, pillow, and shirt that belonged to Wade was a very surprising comfort. The man’s scent was strong and masculine but proving to be a calming agent over his worries. It was like a salve on his wounds of the mental variety, allowing his body to relax. Almost as if he was being blanketed in the warmth, taking his mind under before his body even knew what was happening. Sleep found him before he could even register that he was falling asleep.

 

~~~

 

     **_So, someone want to explain how we just saw Peter in the complete nude and DIDN’T make even a single comment, not one come-on, not even a little chuckle?_   **Yellow asked, almost insulted.

     **I too wonder how you managed that without speaking. Not to say that I don’t approve or that I’m not impressed, just honestly curious.** White inquired, seeming incredulous.

    “Peter wasn’t looking for that. He just needed help. I might have the world’s biggest crush on him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just force myself onto the kid.” Wade muttered to himself as he sat on the couch, having pushed off some random boxes of ammo.

     **_I can’t ever win. Did you see how flushed he was? He was so beautiful and his dick, did you see that? It was totally half hard!_ ** Yellow insisted.

     **I don’t think that was the case. Honestly, I believe you should be thinking about other matters. We need to make sure that Peter’s assailant won’t be returning to finish the job. We should make that phone call to Daredevil.** White responded, trying to get their mind back on track.

    “Yeah, that’s a good plan. We have Claire’s number right? She gave it to us before he woke up that third day."

    Wade rummaged through his suit until he found the piece of crumpled paper and his phone. The numbers were scrawled in a doctor’s handwriting, hurried and a little uncertain. It was not hard for him to push the numbers into the device and hit call. It rang a few times then was answered by a tired Claire.

    “Hey there doc, got any news on the devil?” Wade asked, trying to be surreptitious and failing spectacularly.

     **I don’t even think you understand how to be surreptitious.** White commented.

     _“Uh, I managed to get into contact with him. Just call the number I text you. He’s liable to answer during the day.”_ Claire’s voice came from through the speakers as she yawned.

    “Thanks, I’ll make sure to give him your regards.” Deadpool responded in a sing-song voice.

     _“Just tell him that he needs to get some business cards so I don’t have to keep being the middleman.”_ She responded, a little soured.

    “Will do.” then he pressed the end button and a few seconds later a text was sent to him.

    Again the phone only rang a few times before a rather husky and serious man answered the phone, _“Nelson and Murdock, how can I help you?”_

    “Well, I hate to call during your regular business hours but I’m needing some help from your alter ego.” Deadpool explained, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

    There was silence for a minute, murmuring in the background and then the closing of a door, _“Wade, you can’t be calling me here, least of all here. What if Foggy had answered instead of me?”_

    “Well I’m pretty sure I could have recognized your voice, not many have the kind of finality in every word they utter. Regardless, I need to call in that favor. I’m looking for someone, someone who I would like very much to be dead.” Wade cooed, picking up one of his weapons, admiring it’s shine as he imagined putting a bullet through Peter’s attacker.

    _"I don’t kill people. I never have and never will.”_   the man responded, his voice tight.

    “Well, never say never, but I understand. I’m not asking you to kill him. I’m asking you to find him for me.”

    _“I’ve seen and heard of you tracking down your hits no matter where they went. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, unless you’re getting rusty?”_   the man quipped.

    “Funny, no. I’m… indisposed at the moment. I would call us even if you did this for me.” Wade responded, leaning his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as he listened to the silent deliberation on the other end of the phone.

     _“Fine, I’ll meet you at your place around ten. Now, I’ve got to get back to work so please don’t call back unless you’re dying. No, scratch that, just don’t call back.”_   and then the phone was hung up and Deadpool laughed at the lawyer’s fire: he lived up to the title of ‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’ for sure.

    The merc glanced at the clock above the television and sighed, it was five thirty, meaning he would have to entertain himself for a few hours. Flicking on the T.V.  just to have a little noise, he managed to watch an episode or two of some crime show that held his interest for maybe a few seconds. He considered taking off his suit and getting a shower, maybe changing suits entirely since he hadn’t taken that one off since before he had even found Peter on that rooftop.

     **_You know, I could think of a few ways to entertain ourselves. If we’re reeeeeaaallly smooth, maybe we could snag a piece of ass. Scratch that, we could snag a piece of THE ass, the ass of all asses, the eighth wonder of the ass world, the ass that-_ **

     **Can you just not? Like for maybe a few more hours? There are so many things wrong with us and Peter, especially us** **_being_ ** **with Peter. Not only is he hurt and probably can’t move very much, but there’s also the fact that we are a dinosaur in comparison to the twenty-something-year-old he is. Oh yeah, and we are disturbing to look at. With how handsome he is, how fit he is, and certainly how lovable he is, do you really think we have even the slightest bit of a chance?** White interrupted Yellow, his voice harsh, pulling no punches and making Wade flinch.

    “Can you guys stop arguing? Even when you’re not trying, you’re hurting my feelings.” Wade growled, turning to the phone and contemplating ordering food.

    “Maybe I should go see if Peter is hungry, we did sorta not offer him anything before we put him to bed.” Wade suggested to himself, rising from the sofa and dialing his favorite Chinese place.

     **_At least you know what his favorite dish is because of all those after-patrol dinners you had together._  **Yellow scoffed, still ticked from White’s outburst.

    The gun for hire ordered basically one of everything on the menu, figuring a little bit of leftovers wouldn’t kill anyone. Plus, he knew his spider could eat and once the boy was up and about, he’d need _a lot_ of food. A superhero’s metabolism was a bitch, after all. Half an hour later and the food had been delivered. The delivery boy had been polite and so Deadpool had given him a fancy tip and the boy had barely been able to withhold his shout of surprise. He always loved that: their faces lighting up at such generosity. But Peter had been the best that last time he had given him that sizeable tip. He had seen hope blossom behind those dark eyes. Wade wasn’t stupid, he knew Peter was going through some shit: he had seen it in Spider-Man the night before he had been shot, and he had seen it in Peter for a few months before that. But he hadn’t pressed, he couldn’t press. He knew what it was like to have secrets and then for those secrets to be so personal that even those you trusted couldn’t be told.

    But Wade half expected that Peter wasn’t sleeping well, actually he _knew_ he wasn’t sleeping well. But he hadn’t known Peter was Spidey then so he couldn’t have predicted that the arachnid was also sleep deprived. It all made sense: why Spider-man would have been shot, even at such close range. The hero must have been dead tired for his reflexes to have deteriorated so far.

     **Do you think he suffers from insomnia or simply a troubled mind?** White mused, worry laced in his voice.

     **_Aren’t they basically the same thing, smart guy? Of course Peter is troubled, he said it himself. He lost all those people he cared about. He’s suffering._  **Yellow growled, still salty.

    “What are we supposed to do then? We can’t exactly ask him point blank about his dead friends.”

     **Bring up the bags under his eyes. That’s a good place to start. Even with the three days of rest he’s gotten, plus whatever he’s getting now, you’d think those dark circles would be gone. But this has obviously gone on for a long time so those bags aren’t just going away with a couple nights of rest. Which means this is serious and likely deep rooted. I say-**

    A knock on the door interrupted White’s speech, causing Wade to jump to his feet and unholster his gun. Stalking towards the door, he narrowed his eyes and peered through the peep-hole, ready to start shooting anyone that he found suspicious. Upon seeing the familiar face, well mask, he released his breath and opened the door where there stood another hero in red, his arms crossed in annoyance.

     ** _Really, what is it with people and red? It was our thing first, man._ ** Yellow whined.

 **Actually, Spider-Man made his comic debut in 1962, he’s got a full twenty nine years on us. And Daredevil was created in 1964, so he too has us beat.** White informed, sounding pleased with himself.

     ** _How the fuck does that make any sense? We’re older than both of them! You know what, screw it, I don’t care anymore. It’s still our style and they’re cramping it._** Yellow sounded exasperated, obviously throwing up his nonexistent hands.

    “Um, are you going to let me in or just stand there and stare?” Daredevil asked, looking ever more annoyed by the second.

    “Right, yeah, come in.” Wade moved from inside the doorway, letting the man into his apartment.

    “Smells like Chinese. Do you have any left?” the man asked, moving around everything on the floor with ease, still surprising Deadpool with how well he could see for a blind man.

    “Yeah, help yourself. Now I don’t have much to go on, just a place. I tried to get more information but no dice.” Wade replied, throwing himself down on the couch.

    “Seriously? All I have to work with is a place?” Daredevil asked, obviously displeased in how he picked up one of the Chinese containers frowning, yet still shoved Chow Mein into his face.

    “You’ve worked with less before, plus the person I’m doing this for won’t give me any details. I know better than to ask.” the merc replied, slightly deflated at his prospects of catching the man while tending to Peter.

    “Ah, so this is for someone else? I’m guessing you’re doing it for the person in the other room? Their heart is going a million miles an hour. Kinda sounds like the Spider’s heart, his always ran fast… Wait, is that Spider-Man in there?” Daredevil asked before there was a small thumping sound and a long groan.

    Wade hesitated a second before the door was opened and out shuffled the college boy, his hair a mess, his body covered in sweat, hand held to his right side. The boxers were stuck to his skin, his sculpted calves on display, the shirt riding up on his side so his abs could peek from beneath. He honestly looked like a sexy sleep god and Wade had to shake himself into concentrating on why the other was up and not still in bed. The look in his eyes went from worry, to relief upon seeing Deadpool, and then to confusion upon seeing Daredevil. Scratching the back of his head, he pointed between them and then cocked his head in the most adorable way Wade had seen anyone cock anything in his entire life.

    “Daredevil?” Peter asked, still confused.

    “Spider-Man?” Daredevil asked, equally confused.

    “Deadpool. Great we all know each other now.” Wade beamed and two sets of annoyed gazes settled on him.

 

~~~

 

    Peter had dreamed of the past again, like he always had whenever he managed to sleep for more than a few hours. It was turbulent and angry, the world collapsing in on itself while he was watching Harry die, watching the life drain from his features hour by hour, unable to do anything. It was so like the rich man: he had been too successful with his suicide attempt, just like he had been too successful with his business. He was burdened by his life, by his loss, and by the people who cared enough to sit there and watch him die. Peter hadn’t been able to do anything. With all his powers he had still been helpless.

    Gwen was there too, her mangled corpse caressing his cheek sweetly, her eyes dead. He had been assured she had died from the shock of her fall but he remembered her head hitting concrete, her back snapping like a twig. Whether she died before his webbing had reached her, or after, he still felt that insurmountable guilt. It was his fault she never made it to Oxford, it was his fault her life had ended when it was truly beginning.

    Mary Jane hadn’t been his fault at all, he knew that. But she still haunted him, more because he was going to propose to her. She had been there for him, she had watched him grow as both Peter and Spider-Man. She knew who he was and she accepted both the spider and the nerd. They had been so close to a life together, despite his worryings over his enemies. But fate was cruel and ironic. The thing that took her from him hadn’t been the Green Goblin, the Rhino, or the Lizard, or any of his other enemies. No, it had been a drunk driver in the middle of New York.

    The tortured youth woke up from his nightmares drenched in sweat, his body shaking, his wound screaming. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was and tumbled from the bed he was in, hitting the ground hard. He hadn’t been able to stop the groan that passed through his lips but his frantic mind searched for clues as to his location. The mountain of guns hadn’t jogged his memory, only making him anxious and terrified in his confused state as he went to the door, ignoring the wound that seemed to fester beneath his hand.

    He had pulled open the door to find Deadpool reclined on the sofa, Daredevil eating Chow Mein. His confusion had been voiced through the other superhero’s name, who then inquired likewise, Deadpool finishing the little name game with his own.

    “Wait, you know Daredevil? And how do you know I’m Spider-Man?” Peter asked carefully.

    “I know The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen from back when I saved his ass from a bunch of the Hand. Got himself in a pretty dicey situation and I was there for a job, lucky for him.” Wade explained, glancing down at the red seeping slightly through Peter’s shirt.

    “And I know you’re Spider-Man because you sound like him. Well your heartbeat does. Yours always ran faster than normal. I haven’t worked with you in ages. I recall our last team-up to be that time we ran into each other during that bank robbery on 5th avenue… Hey, are you bleeding?” Daredevil asked with a tilt of his head, his nostrils flaring slightly.

    “Ah, yeah. Long story.” Peter mumbled, walking to the kitchen and wetting a semi-clean rag, dabbing his forehead and neck.

    “Well I have time to listen.” Daredevil settled in one of the two bar stools Deadpool had at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

    Peter hesitated, “Why do you want to know?”

    Daredevil played with a bullet on the counter before shrugging, “I was just concerned,” the man stood and walked over to Peter, hand outstretched, “may I?”

    “Oh, yeah sure.” Peter said, nodding despite the man’s inability to see it.

    His fingers ghosted over the wound and he frowned, the lines deep and troubled. The man breathed a long and deep sigh, “This is Claire’s handiwork… she mentioned something about a person she had to apply emergency care for when I went by there this morning. Didn’t realize it would be you.”

    Peter winced at the touch but didn’t say anything, instead making a face, “I want to do something to thank her when I’m better, you know like take her to dinner, or send her flowers, or something. She worked so hard so that I wouldn’t die. I was really stupid, I hadn’t slept for more than three days and I was running on fumes. It was a miracle she saved me at all.”

    “Claire has been known to work miracles. So… what? You didn’t dodge a bullet fast enough? You must have been really tired if that’s the case. I don’t recall you being sloppy in your handling of the bad guys, after all.” Daredevil replied with a small smile.

    “Yeah, it was stupid. Some guy posing as a cop came up to me after I had stopped some amateur car thieves, they seemed like nice dudes. Anyway, the guy said he had a bet to settle between him and his buddies. The next thing I know, he draws a gun and there’s a bullet headed at me. My spider senses picked up nothing until it was too late. I was lucky to not have had it pierce anything vital.” Spider-Man found himself explaining, soothed by Daredevil’s calm.

    “I see, and you don’t know who the man was? The one who shot you?” the older man asked carefully.

    “No, I didn’t get a chance to make out anything except that he had black hair and brown eyes.” Peter replied.

    “Well it isn’t much to work on, that could be anybody.” Daredevil sighed and motioned for Peter to sit.

    “Um, Daredevil I-” Peter began but the man held up a hand.

    “Call me Matt, Wade already knows.” the smile on his face was courteous.

    “Oh, my name is Peter. Are you going after this man so Wade can kill him?” Peter’s voice was insistent, withholding an anger he didn’t know was there.

    Wade only sank down further into the couch, starting to whistle nonchalantly and Matt cleared his throat. Peter was glaring at the merc with daggers, “I told you no, Wade!”

    Peter managed a brisk walk over to the couch where he stood before the man, pissed, “Seriously, no. I’m grateful for your involvement up until now but no. No killing!”

    Wade was suddenly standing and in his face, tensed and hands inching towards his weapons, “You can’t exactly stop me, baby boy.”

    Peter couldn’t keep his eyes from going a little wide as he remembered that Wade was, in fact, often a ticking time bomb. But he did square up, despite the pain in his side, and looked the other in the eye, “Are you threatening me?” his voice was cool, calculated, and very serious.

    Wade faltered for a second and Peter used that moment to smack his shoulder into Wade, sending him back on the couch, webbing following after to pin the man’s hands, legs, and torso to the piece of furniture, “Because if that’s how you want to play it, I’m still strong enough to kick your ass.”

    “Oh my god, you are the king of dirty talk. Fuck, I love it when you go all alpha like that. But the effect is a little lost without the suit, you’re too cute dressed up in my clothes,” Wade breathed, struggling against the webbing, “wow, has your webbing always been this strong?”

    “Um, Peter, perhaps you should let him up so we can talk. You also shouldn’t be doing a lot of rigorous activity.” Matt chimed in, still sitting at his bar stool.

    Peter glanced down at the ever growing red splotch on his side and hissed, that shoulder jab had indeed hurt. It had hurt a lot more than he had anticipated. In fact, why was his wound even still a problem? It had been more than three days and he always recovered quickly. Even with the extended healing time Claire predicted, it should be getting better. He pressed a hand to the wound and couldn’t help the pathetic whimper that crossed his lips.

    “Peter?” both Matt and Wade chimed in at the same time, Matt standing from his stool.

    “Why am I not getting better? Why does it hurt so much?” Peter growled, pulling up the shirt to reveal the blood soaked gauze.

    “We need to change that… let me help you. Do you have any spare bandages?” Matt asked, taking a step closer to the college kid.

    “I took them from Spidey in the car. I put them on the counter next to the Chinese food.” Wade explained from where he still sat on the couch, restrained.

    Matt found the bandages quickly, pulling them open and walked to Peter, having him sit on the coffee table in front of Wade. Peter tried to breath evenly as Matt undid the gauze around the arachnid’s waist, replacing it gently with fresh gauze. Daredevil was very soft and careful with the gauze, his fingers precise.

    “I still don’t understand how you can see so well.” Peter stated, bringing his shirt back down after Daredevil was satisfied.

    “It comes with a lot of practice,” Matt mumbled, sitting back, moving to stand next to the counter again, glancing at Wade, “are you going to let him up?”

    “Not as long as he misbehaves… you know my number one rule is no killing.” Peter explained the last part to Wade.

    “Well I just can’t let some fucker waltz in and almost kill you! There are consequences for that.” Wade growled, pulling at the webbing, managing to snap a few strands.

    “Okay, well I think I get it now. You two need to work on your relationship. I’m going to go start trying to find this guy because, regardless of your plans for him, he needs to be caught. I’ll swing by and bring you some pie later: Karen made extra,” Daredevil said, pushing off the counter and walking towards the door, patting Peter’s shoulder on the way, “try not to torture him too much.”

    “Wait, what are you talking about?” but Matt was gone before Peter could even finish his sentence.

    “You should let me up.” Wade said matter-of-factly.

    “Not with you acting like you’re going to blow up the whole damn city for me. You-”

    “I would.” Wade interrupted Peter, looking him in the face.

    “Pardon?” Peter asked hesitantly, knitting his brows together.

    “I would blow up the whole goddamn city for you.” Wade explained.

    Peter coughed lightly and looked down at his hands and then back up. His mouth dropped open and then closed, repeating the process while Deadpool sat there and waited patiently for a response, any response from the arachnid. After a few false starts, Peter managed a single word, “Why?”

    Wade sat and waited for a few moments, turning his head to the side and then looking back to Peter, “Because I care about you. I always have, ever since you first decided to let me hang around. You have always been there for me, no matter what happened. For five years, ever since that whole fiasco with the Vulture, I have been working with you. I got to watch you grow up and become an amazing hero, despite all of your failures and shortcomings. You showed me kindness when I knew for damn sure that I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t cast me aside when I deserved to be cast away. Somewhere along the line I found that I needed you around. I care that you exist and so I can’t let someone come at you. You’re the only part that’s left of me that can be killed. It’s why I’m so… persistent.”

    “I… didn’t peg you for the sentimental type, Wade,” Peter said after a minute of silence, “what brought that on?”

    “I used to be sentimental, before Weapon X. You just pull that part out of me... Please let me kill that man for you.” Wade’s voice broke, actually broke for once.

    Peter faltered but shook his head softly, hands clenched in his lap, almost like he was afraid to move. He wasn’t sure if his feelings for Wade were as strong as what Deadpool was suggesting his feelings for Peter were, but there was definitely something. He couldn’t say he didn’t care for Wade’s company because it was easy to just be himself, to do everything he wanted to and not be judged.

    “I care about you too, Wade, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to go killing someone on my behalf. I can handle this my way, once I’m better.” Peter explained, finally looking up from his hands.

    “The doc thinks you were taken out for something big. That they wanted you gone forever, or for just long enough to do something that requires time. And I can’t leave you, but I can’t let the city you care about suffer. I may be crazy, selfish, and violent… actually I have no clue how to follow that up… Uh, point is that I’m going to be doing everything in my power to protect you.” the merc responded, his arms working as he tried to break the webbing.

    “I’m a big boy Wade, I can take care of my own messes.” Peter explained, standing from where he sat.

    “Fine, no killing. It’s not like the plot can advance much if we’re stuck arguing for the rest of the fic.” Deadpool consented, throwing his head back in defeat.

    “Excuse me?” Peter asked, giving Wade an incredulous look.

    “Don’t worry about it. Look, take your web off and then we can eat Chinese, play some video games, and not talk about the man that shot you. That can wait. For now, we need to double check that your wound isn’t infected.” Wade explained, sounding infuriatingly wise.

    When had he gotten so convincing and sane, “I see what you’re trying to do. All that smooth, sensible talk is flattering but it’ll take more than that to get in my pants, Wade Wilson.”

    Spider-Man gave him a cruel smile and then pulled off the webbing, allowing blood to start flowing back into his extremities, “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

    Once Deadpool was standing, he stuck to his word. The man made sure the wound wasn’t infected, promising to go get clean gauze in the morning seeing as they only had the one roll. He then cleaned off the weapons from the couch, hooked up his gaming console and they played games while eating Chinese food until early in the morning. Somewhere in between the food and the video games, the spider ended up curled into a ball on top of the merc’s chest, listening to the man breath as he fell asleep. Peter was, for once, not thinking about his troubles or his responsibilities as he laid with the merc, more concerned with the fact that his body relaxed so easily and that he was slipping off into lala land. His mind was quiet with Wade beside him, something he would have to think about more in the morning, when his body wasn’t so tired. So his brain let himself sleep surrounded by Wade’s body, his heat, and his scent. Peter’s last thought was that he might could get used to that feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not really a cliffhanger but it is at the same time. Don't kill me lol. Sorry for the short-ish chapter, I just needed to end it to sorta jump a little bit of time. Ya know how it is lol.


	5. Butterflies and Handgrenades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Wade address the reason's behind Peter's insomnia and the sexual tension just keeps building. Matt has already found some info because he's super awesome at his job. No rest for the weary, unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So sorry about the wait, I was suppppper busy with college and everything so I couldn't write much. But I finished it up this morning. Also this fucking spacing issue is messing with my writer OCD I swear to god it's actually bothering me and I don't have the hours necessary to sit down ad manually correct all the spacing ;~;))

     **_Dude, wake the fuck up. Look at what is inches away from your face._ ** Yellow roared into Wade’s mind.

     **You’re seriously waking us up? We hardly get any sleep as it is anymore. Go back to bed.** White’s irritated and snappy morning voice replied.

     **_We have a spider making a nest on our chest and you think we shouldn’t revel in this?! Look how cute he is all curled up like that! We poured our heart out to him last night and he didn’t turn away from us! He said he cared!_ ** Yellow exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his voice to Peter, who was still asleep on top of the mercenary.

     **Yeah, he’ll return our sentiments when pigs fly. I don’t think he meant what we meant. Let’s just say we were a little drunk last night, because first we threatened him and then we confessed to him. So let’s just write it off as alcohol induced ramblings and not make the friendship we have between us deteriorate because we can’t keep it in our pants.** White prattled, still entertained by the notion of sleep.

     **_He already knows we can’t get drunk… But hey, why did we try to attack Peter?_ ** Yellow questioned, trying to think back.

    “Because we wanted to see what he’d do, remember? We weren’t actually going to hurt him. That’d be the opposite of what we are trying to accomplish.” Wade mumbled, glancing down at Peter in a moment of admiration.

    Peter’s hair was sprawled around his head like a halo, the light peeking in from the kitchen window making shadows dance on his face. His expression was peaceful, devoid of the weight of his problems. It was at the same time beautiful and saddening, mostly because the merc wanted Peter to experience that weightlessness while awake. But even with such beauty, Wade had to admit, he’d much rather be lost in his dreams as well. He contemplated merely falling back asleep before he realized he smelled something a bit foul. Upon further investigation, he discovered it to be coming from himself: he was disgustingly dirty. That would be the best time to grab a shower since the web slinger was asleep but there was the slight problem of getting the spider off of him without waking the poor kid up. He figured the guy was a light sleeper, so this was going to be a lot of scooting around until he was out from under the hero.

    Little by little, the merc managed to disentangle their bodies, each muscle twitch made by the boy on top of him sending a jolt of fear through the merc. He knew the arachnid didn’t sleep well and he didn’t want to disturb the pathetic amount he was getting then. When he was eventually out from beneath the web head, he tiptoed to the bathroom, which was next to the bedroom. Listening for a second longer, just to make sure the other's breathing hadn’t changed, Wade crept into the bathroom and shut the door.

    His skin ached when he peeled the suit from it, the disgusting piece of clothing seeming to cling to its host. Wade could smell himself, actually smell the stank that permeated the small space. Flipping on the shower, he prepared the soap that he always bought because it didn’t irritate his skin too much, and the fluffy towel that was more like a cloud than anything physical. It was always an ordeal to shower, which was why he didn’t do it often.

    When the water reached a nice and warm temperature, the man slowly stepped beneath the torrential downpour, eased by the heat and the liquid. He stood there for a while, trying to let himself enjoy the moment. But he knew all good things eventually come to an end so he prepared the soap.

     **_Yeah, all good things eventually come to an end. Especially when it involves caring for a disabled hero. Would it be bad if we just casually broke his leg so that he’d stay with us longer?_ ** Yellow asked longingly.

     **Is that even a question? Are you really asking that? Of course not, we are not hurting Spider-Man. I thought our goal was to make him like us, not absolutely hate us for making him suffer more.** White exclaimed, seeming to want to claw out of their mindscape.

    “We aren’t going to hurt Spidey. We just have to ensure that he falls in love with us before he leaves our care.” Wade explained, applying the soap gingerly.

     **How certain are you of that happening?** White asked sarcastically.

    “Given my irresistible charm and my general likableness, I think it will be no sweat.” he retorted, sighing at the banter.

    The suds stung on his skin but it wasn’t as bad as what it could have been. The lather was soothing in a technical sense but his scars always hurt so the suds only provided an uncomfortable texture against them. He tried to make it quick and thorough, plowing through his shower like it was his job. It took less than ten minutes for him to be out of the shower and toweled off. The mat beneath his toes squished pleasantly, providing comfort as he walked to his vanity. Wade brushed his teeth, took care of his morning bathroom break, and threw the suit into a bin in his room as he went in, proud of his accomplishments thus far.

    The closet was filled with casual shirts and at least thirty Deadpool suites, each made from his custom supplier. He pulled off a suit from one of the hangers and slipped it on, feeling better for not smelling like a garbage dump. He was about to simply flop on the bed and sleep again when a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the apartment.

     **_What the fuck was that?_ ** Yellow demanded.

     **No time, check on Peter!** White exclaimed, worry bleeding through his words.

    He was up, his pistol drawn, rushing into the other room to find Spidey screaming in his sleep. The expression on the other’s face was horrifying, pain filled, and tortured, his body curling in on itself, no doubt aggravating the wound on his side. Wade was quick to run over, placing the gun on the coffee table to pull Peter up into his arms, rocking the boy back and forth.

    “Shhhh, Petey, shhhhh. I’m here, shhhhh, I’m here Petey. You’re safe, you’re safe.” Deadpool cooed, stroking the web slinger’s hair, trying to calm him down.

    Peter gasped and choked on his sobs, shuddering in Wade’s grasp. The man before him couldn’t see the mercenary, his eyes looked far away and dark, frightened. It was quick and decisive, the movement that pinned Wade beneath the arachnid while Peter tried to stop sobbing.

    “Peter, Peter look at me. You’re awake, you’re fine.” Wade grasped Spidey’s head between his two hands, ignoring the sweat that coated his cheeks and hair.

    Peter’s eyes found Wade and he seemed to come back to reality. The second he realized that he was kneeling over the gun for hire, his crotch way too close to Wade’s face, Spidey was gone. He had jumped ten feet to the ceiling, his hands and feet locking him to the surface. Wade blinked sporadically, relishing in Peter’s blushed face, before he tried to concentrate on the problem of continued comfort for his friend.

    “Ah, um…” Peter tried but then his face twisted into a grimace, lowering himself down to the sofa.

    Holding his side, he refused to look at Wade, his eyes ashamed. It made Wade feel awful, his hands clasping together as he sat up from the floor.

    “That must have been a hell of a bad dream there, baby boy.” he chuckled, standing up from his place and walking over to the kitchen counter.

    “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make an outburst like that.” the boy shuddered again, his body looking small and fragile.

    “What was it about?” Wade asked after a moment of silence as he brought new gauze, handing the dressings to Peter.

    The boy took it and held his shirt up, again replacing the blood soaked cloth with fresh ones, “I’m fine. Don’t worry…”

     **_Was that a panic attack?_ ** Yellow asked, his voice unusually subdued.

     **No, I believe it was a night terror. Not many people experience them and it usually only happens to children. Maybe Peter has more going on in his head than we thought. He should probably talk to a counselor about it.** White responded, he too sounded a little down.

     **_Yeah, I’m sure Peter can talk to a specialist about what he’s feeling. I’m sure his problems have nothing to do with being Spider-Man._ ** Yellow huffed, drained of his usual bite.

    “Baby boy…” Wade mumbled, sitting down next to him and rubbing his back in comforting circles.

    “It’s fine, I’m fine… Hey can we go by my apartment today? I need to call my aunt and check up on her. I always talk to her a few times a week and I haven’t called in a while.” Peter said as he stood, and Wade wondered if he didn’t want the merc to touch him.

    It stung a little bit that Spider-Man and Peter both didn’t want anything to do with Deadpool, his hands staying in his lap before he brushed it off. The cold shoulder and disgust were nothing new to the anti-hero and he had been treated that way since before he could remember. So he simply stood and nodded to Peter, smiling through his mask, “Of course, but you probably want to put on different clothes, right?”

    Peter glanced down and then nodded, playing with the hem of the shirt. Wade didn’t pretend not to stare, his thoughts going down a more inappropriate path before he sprung into action. He was only gone a minute as he grabbed something he thought the boy could use: a pair of faded cargo shorts. When he returned, he simply held out the article to Peter, grateful his mask concealed his eyes. He knew his emotions were too readily seen through his eyes when he was feeling down.

    “Thank you, Wade. I really appreciate this.” Peter mumbled, pulling up the shorts over the boxers with Wade’s assistance and then they were heading out, Peter grabbing the pressure cloth from beside the bandages, ducking out of the apartment.

    “Don’t mention it.” the merc mumbled to thin air before walking out after the youth, his phone already dialing Dopinder.

 

~~~

 

    Peter stood at the curbside, his muscles still twitching from his episode. It had been so real. It hadn’t been Harry, or Gwen, or MJ, or even Uncle Ben that had greeted him in his mindscape. No it had been that man, the one that had shot him. His fear of dying, his realization that it was far too easy to kill him, it shook the youth to his core. He had never felt so vulnerable, or sick, or _weak_. He felt so weak, to the point that he didn’t know if he could even make a difference

    “Listen, whatever you are thinking, whatever it is that’s making you scared, just tell me.” Wade’s gruff voice was by his ear, soothing and threatening in a confusing mixture.

    “It’s not something you can just kill… It’s me. I'm the problem. I feel useless, vulnerable. I feel like the smallest breeze is just going to knock me over. But I can still lift a car over my head so…. I have no clue what’s wrong with me.” Peter confessed, unwilling to turn and face the man behind him.

    “You had your power taken away from you but it was because you weren’t prepared. You’re still the amazing Spider-Man. But even more than that, you’re still the amazing Peter Parker. So the next time you come face to face with this guy, you’ll be able to kick his ass. If not, I’ll kick it for you, and then maybe you’ll let me admire dat ass.” Deadpool explained, his speech making Peter feel better, despite the cheap come-on at the end.

    “Thank you, Wade. I appreciate your encouragement. You’ve really been there for me these last few days. Do you, um, do you wanna go get lunch or dinner today?” Peter asked after a moment, peeking over his shoulder at the man behind him.

    “Are you, Peter Parker, inviting me, Wade Wilson, on a date?” Wade asked in a stage whisper.

    “Yeah, I mean, if you want to. I want to get to know the parts of you that nobody else does. I think it’ll be nice to put some trust in you after so long,” Peter explained and then hurriedly added, “this doesn’t mean I give you permission to grope me.”

    “What brought on this change? You never wanted to go out with me before.” Wade asked cautiously, holding up his hands like he expected Peter to attack him.

    The wall crawler simply chuckled, “It’s not a date, date. It's a friend date,” when he saw Wade seem to deflate, he added after a moment, “for now.”

    “Wait this isn’t because of that whole Hero Syndrome thing, right?” Wade asked, again withdrawn.

    “No, Wade. This is not because you saved me. I’ve wanted us to become better friends for a while. I just didn’t know how to bridge the gap between Spider-Man and Peter. Now that problem is gone and you know both.” Peter explained, shrugging as the taxi cab pulled up to their curbside.

    The masked head snapped up and the smile through the fabric was a little creepy but genuine, causing Peter to reflect the smile slightly, “But first, back to my apartment. Then we will talk about dinner.”

    “Right,” Wade opened the passenger door and greeted his friend, “nice to see you, buddy. Listen, I need you to take us to uh… Actually, Petey, I don’t know where you live.”

    Peter chuckled and told the address to Dopinder, sliding into the cab and to the far seat once he was finished. Wade was quick to follow, closing the door behind him as he slid in next to Peter. It was a comfortable silence that they shared for the entirety of the ride to his apartment. Dopinder sang along with the foreign music he had made into a mixtape, the language foreign but melodic.

    The wall crawler might have been able to fall asleep in that environment maybe a year ago but it was a hopeless dream in his current situation. Despite the rest he had gotten those last few days, his body lacked energy and his mind felt sluggish. It was due to months of erratic sleep and he knew it. He could only helplessly watch as the world zoomed past him, unable to find the rest he desired. When they arrived at the apartment, Peter ducked his head in thanks, shaking the man’s hand when offered.

    Once on the curbside, Wade looked up, the sunlight playing behind the building, bending around the edges, “This is quite the place you've got here.”

    “It’s nothing. I barely have a place to sit down on. Also, no heating so the chill will follow us in.” Peter explained as they entered the building, the elevator’s ding filling the uncomfortable silence that suddenly stretched out from Wade.

    They rode up, rising to the sixth floor at a crawl, given the building was old and the fixtures and amenities had not been replaced in a decade or so. Yet it was not in the same ruin of Deadpool's apartment: the walls were devoid of cracks and stains, the carpets clean and plush, despite being old, and the wallpaper was quaint and simple. There was a lot of care put into its maintenance, which Peter knew for sure of since the owner of the complex was a tired, yet kind old man. After having had so many bad owners, the old man’s smile and gentle reminders of rent due dates were refreshing.

    Once on the correct floor, they disembarked and Peter was quick to remember his apartment door was locked and that the keys were inside. The arachnid groaned outwardly before sighing, “So I’ve gotta go around the outside and crawl through my window. I left my keys inside before I want on patrol.”

    “Naw, I’ve got this, baby boy.” Deadpool motioned for Peter to get out of the way.

    Peter couldn’t see what the merc was doing as he stepped up to the doorknob, his hands working, having produced a few metal tongs from _somewhere_ but he heard the tumblers going, the sharp metal clicking together. Before the male could even ask what was happening, the door was swinging in on itself. Peter blanched at the fact that his door was opened so expertly and so quickly, pointing between Wade and the door and then back again.

    “Boom!” the merc exclaimed while making hand gestures that Peter half expected were gang related.

    “I’m just not going to ask.” the youth responded, moving through the doorway and into the space.

    Peter was quick to grab his cell phone that sat neatly beside his keys at the entrance. Upon first inspection, the device lit up but flashed low battery at the wall crawler before dying completely. Grabbing the charger, he plugged it into the socket and let the phone charge for a few minutes before trying to turn it on again. It stuttered to life with some grievances.

    “I’m going to call my aunt. You just um, you can sit anywhere, I shouldn’t be long.” Peter explained, glancing down at his phone and palling.

    He had no less than twelve missed calls, seventeen text messages, and about eight voicemails, all from his aunt. Quickly hitting redial, he waited for the onslaught of worry and tears. The other end was answered before it had time to ring twice.

     _“Peter? Peter are you alright, oh my goodness I was worried half to death. I called your work, your school, everything. They told me you’d been in an accident and I couldn’t get ahold of you or get them to tell me where you were being hospitalized-”_ Aunt May started, her voice rising in pitch and urgency as she went.

    “Aunt May, Aunt May, I’m fine. Listen, I’m okay. I have to stay at this facility a little longer for just some routine stuff. They think I’ll be ready to come home in a few days. It’s not bad and I’m healing fine.” Peter explained, his voice smooth and reassuring.

     _“Peter, what happened?”_ came her voice in a much more stable and firm tone.

    “I was… I was shot.” he explained, not wanting to lie about things he didn't have to.

     _“Oh my god, Peter,”_ she choked on a sob but continued on bravely, the web head proud of her strength, _“Are you allowed visitation?”_

    “No, not at this moment. But because they think I’m healing well, they are going to let me go home in a day or two. Please don’t worry, I have this under control.” Peter tried to soothe her again.

    _“Alright, well I’ll call tomorrow morning and tonight to check up on you so keep your phone with you. I love you, Peter.”_ she sounded more than a little weepy so he promised her and she excused herself, ending the conversation.

    “Sounds like she cares about you.” Wade chimed in after Peter hung up the phone.

    The arachnid turned to face the merc and nodded, his hands clasping together in front of him. He still felt awful about having to lie to his aunt, but he couldn’t tell her he was Spider-Man. That would make things twice as bad if he ever got hurt again. The important thing was that he minimized her stress and the amount of accidents he had. That would satiate most of his problems.

    When he glanced over at Wade, he found him poking through the apartment, merely observing. It wasn’t much, honestly it was smaller than Wade’s, but it was much more clean. His bed sat against the wall to the right of the door, the window on the far wall. He had a small couch and a table for two against the far wall in the middle, a kitchenette to the far left, and a bathroom and closet near the foot of the bed. It honestly looked more like a slightly larger than normal hotel room. Which Wade gladly pointed out.

    “This is it, baby boy? You’ve got nothing else?” Wade asked, his voice soft and concerned.

    “It’s not much but it’s home.” Peter tried to brush off Wade’s concern.

    “No, this does not live up to the deceptive title of home. You don’t have central heating and air, I checked the fridge and was grossly disappointed that you don’t have any food, and you hardly have enough space to breath. Why are you living like this?” Wade sounded insulted at the fact that Peter wasn’t fully stocked with all the faculties of an apartment.

    “This is the best I can do in NYC, it’s expensive to live here and I don’t make any extra money flipping around the city, saving people. So, this is what I’ve got.” the webbed wonder explained, already walking around the apartment, stuffing things in a travel bag.

    “Hey what are you doing? Let me do that for you. Look, you’re already bleeding through your shirt again. Stop bending over unless you’re bending over for my entertainment.” Wade explained, taking the bag from Peter and making a picture frame with his fingers and zooming in on Peter’s ass.

    He simply sighed, shaking his head as he walked back to his phone, eyeing Wade as the mercenary picked up where the college student left off. Peter contemplated calling the school or his work but something caught his attention: mainly Wade picking up three important photos. Peter had to stop himself from shooting webs to yank the pictures from the other’s hands, instead calmly walking over, his chest heavy. Wade looked from the pictures to Peter, who was busy trying to conceal his intense distraught, and then back. The youth couldn’t see the man’s face but he knew that the assassin was thinking and drawing connections.

    “These are the people you cared about. The ones that died, right?” Wade’s blunt words did nothing to ease Peter into the conversation but at least they had been expected.

    “Yes, they’re why I can’t sleep at night anymore. I was the reason they died.” Peter whispered, fingers ghosting over the frames of the pictures.

    “Tell me about them. It might help to talk.” Wade explained, bringing them to the small couch where he helped Peter sit.

    The college student’s hands trembled, his bottom lip quivering every now and again as he attempted to put his shame to words. Wade sat very still, his body in perfect attention to Peter, offering support and acceptance. It was a while before Peter trusted himself to speak, his leg shaking in anxiety.

    “Gwen was first. She’s the pretty blond in the center. A few months before Harry died, I was trying to stop Harry’s father: the Green Goblin. He was trying to get to me and he found out that I knew Gwen. I wasn’t fast enough to save her or to stop him from taking her and he dropped her from the top of a building. She plummeted so far that the doctors said she had died from the shock before she ever reached the ground. But I know it was because I webbed her, trying to stop her descent and when my web connected to her, it snapped her back and her head cracked against the street. That sound, that fucking sound still haunts me. There was so much blood that it soaked my suit and turned it an unnatural shade of red. It was the one time I broke my no-killing rule. I went at Goblin with the intent to kill. Even if I didn’t actually deliver the final blow, I still killed him. It was because of me she never got to go to Oxford, I robbed her of the rest of her life and I have to live with that now.” Peter’s voice was angry, rushing through the sadness to try not to face his sorrow.

    Wade said nothing, but he touched the picture lightly. His hand found Peter’s back and he rubbed careful circles into the taut muscle. It comforted Peter a great deal and he arched his back into the pleasant massage, finding his voice again.

    “Harry was the second to go, he, um… he didn’t just slit his wrist with a blade, he sliced going up his arm. He made sure to hit every vein he could. He didn’t just leave a note to me, directly, but it was also addressed to Spider-Man. It read that Spider-Man was to blame for the death of his father and that he couldn’t handle the stress of his job. He thanked,” Peter’s voiced teetered off but he took a steadying breath and continued, “he _thanked_ Peter for being the only person there for him. The kicker is that the night before he died, he called me. He tried to tell me but I didn’t listen, I was too busy for him, apparently. I remember exactly what I was doing too, I was writing a fucking paper for my English class, one not due for days. I would have stayed up with him all night if I’d known… His assistant found him bleeding out, rushed him to the hospital. I got there ten minutes before he died. I sat beside him and watched the life drain from his eyes. They let me stay because they couldn’t physically move me. I was frantic and not thinking clearly. He died holding my hand.” Peter murmured, his eyes pinned to the floor and his composure threatened.

    “MJ… Mary Jane. She’s the redhead that I was going to marry. She was perfect, and put up with my bullshit. I had told her I was Spider-Man and she told me that she had already known. She accepted me and loved me all the same. She was found dead in her car around eight at night. She had been on her way to my place, we were going to grab dinner and I was finishing up some college work so I had her drive over. I didn’t find out until hours later what happened but I had known something terrible had transpired. I felt it in my heart when her’s stopped beating, as cliche as that sounds. It was a drunk driver that T-boned her on the driver’s side. It took the recovery team three hours to disentangle her body from the car’s door frame. There was nothing suitable enough left for her family to bury.”

    Wade was obviously waiting for the water works, for the cursing, for the angry tirade. But Peter gave him tired emptiness with a side of tortured silence. The mercenary was probably waiting for him to keep going, not wanting to interrupt if he was going to continue. But Peter was done talking, he had spilled his guts and that was all he was capable of. But he did laugh a little, thinking he could add one more kicker.

    “I’m no better than the monsters I fight to keep this city safe if I can’t even protect the people in this world who most deserve protection.”

    There was a sharp sting in the back of his head and a clapping sound that reverberated through the small apartment. It took a moment to realize what had happened, Peter reaching up and back to feel his head and then looked at Wade. After another moment of processing, he came to the conclusion that Wade had just slapped him on the back of the head, on purpose.

 

~~~

 

     **_Did he just say what I think he did? Does he actually think that?_ ** Yellow’s incredulous voice matched White’s unbelieving response.

     **Surely he isn’t that daft, is he?**

    Wade took in Peter’s confused face before he said plain and simple, “That’s complete bullshit, horse cock, and donkey balls. You fucking think that you’re no better than the low lives you stop every day? Wow, okay. I was just going to give a small spiel on how none of that shit was your fault, which it fucking wasn’t, by the way, but this needs more. You’re so delusional that it’s funny. Peter, fucking, Parker. You. Are. Not. A. Monster. You are an angel having taken human form come to spread your love and perfect ass among the commonwealth. Baby boy, you’re looking at a monster. I’ve murdered more people, innocent and guilty, than I can even remember. But you, your adamance, your drive to do good, that changed me. If you’re a monster, then all of us are demons from the very pit of hell, menial spawn sent to corrupt the earth. You are better than chimichangas and I _do not_ say that lightly.” Wade said, no commanded, to Peter, watching the boy’s face twist into denial, then awe, then reservation.

     **That was quite a speech. I didn’t even know you had the vocabulary for that.** White praised, seeming satisfied with their tirade.

    “You’re not a monster, Wade. You’re just misguided.” Peter mumbled after a moment.

    “That’s it? That’s all you got out of that speech? Seriously?” Wade deadpanned, his head bobbing to emphasize every word.

    “That’s all that mattered to me.” came his quick and precise words.

     **_Hold up, time out, time out. Did he just say we were the only part of our argument that mattered?_ ** Yellow asked quietly, as if he didn’t believe it.

     **In a sense, yes.** White admitted, holding back from further comments in the moment.

    “Stop that. You’re turning this into something about me. We are here to fix you, not try to fix the mess that is Deadpool. I’m going to keep telling you this until you believe me: you were not at fault for the deaths of your friends. You had no idea of the future so how can you blame yourself for an outcome you had no control over? Besides, if you were evil, I’d have taken a hit on you already. There are a distinct lack of hits on you, well any hits from good guys that is.” Wade tried to reroute the conversation, his hands waving to exaggerate his point.

    “Well do be sure to tell me if there are hits on me. I think it would be fun to see how long I’d be able to play keep away from Deadpool.” Peter laughed, rolling his eyes lightly.

    “If I told you there was a hit on you, it’d defeat the purpose of the hit. But I think you could last a week, tops.” Wade explained, nodding to himself.

    “That right? I could take you on. Don’t doubt Spider-Man.” Peter’s chuckle lightened as he spoke, coming out of his darker thoughts, much to Wade’s relief.

    “Never that, baby boy.” Wade said, placing the pictures down onto the couch’s arm.

    “Thank you, Wade.” Peter mumbled, leaning his head on Wade’s shoulder.

     **Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy shit and cow balls. He’s laying on our shoulder. I repeat, Peter Parker is laying on our shoulder. TOUCH HIM NOW!** Yellow exclaimed, demanding action immediately.

    Wade was quick to respond to the prompting, bringing his hand down to touch Peter’s shoulder and then down to squeeze the man’s ass. It was still like a fucking gelatinous cloud of sexy promises and he almost melted at getting to touch it again. He had abstained for a few weeks now and he needed his Spidey ass fix. Apparently, Spidey didn’t agree.

    “Really, Wade, really? We were having a moment.” Peter drawled, sitting up and staring pointedly at where Deadpool was still copping a feel.

    “Consider moment had. It passed and you were open. There was a chance for maximum ass grabage. I was _not_ missing my opportunity.” Wade explained, but withdrew his hand regardless.

    “Well now that we are done with emotions, it’s time to eat. Dredging up past occurrences really makes me hungry.” Peter said, standing and motioning for the merc to follow.

    “I’m feeling Mexican. How about you?” Wade asked, standing smoothly to his feet.

    “You’re always feeling Mexican… but yeah I could go for it. Let’s do it.” Peter explained, grabbing keys and wallet on his way to the door.

     **_Mission successful._ ** Yellow purred, satiated for the time being.

     **You’re a disgusting being of pure lustful tendencies.** White muttered, abhorred.

     **_You win some, you lose some. We just won, deal with it._ **

     **I would say you lost it. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose.**

     **_Ohhhh, I know what I want to stroke. Hand me that Spidey ass and we will make his cock weep with-_ **

**** **Do you have any decency?** White questioned, oddly disturbed by the crass language.

     **_Lost that a lonnnnng time ago. Maybe I never had it, who knows? Point is, we want Spidey, Spidey maybe wants us. Let’s give him the D._ ** Yellow defended, seeming to be smirking.

    “I think we should carry out with that plan. That sounds fun.” Wade likewise smirked, mentally high fiving Yellow.

    “What?” Peter questioned in an unsurprised manner, he was quite used to the random outbursts by then.

    “Nothing, just thinking about how I’ve got to tell Cable to let alternate universe Wades know about Peter Parker. Some verses don’t have you, ya know? It would have been cool if we had omegas and alphas in this universe but that’s a fic for another day,” Wade mumbled before waving away Peter’s confusion, “anyway, let’s hit the road. We can walk to where I want to go if you’re feeling up to it.” Wade suggested as they walked to the door.

    “Yeah, let’s do it. Oh wait, let me change real fast. As much as your clothes are appreciated, I look like I’m trying to fit into my father’s clothes from when I was a kid.” Peter chuckled, grabbing a pair of pants and shirt, heading to the bathroom.

    Peter hesitated, face burning again before he cleared his throat, “Are you, um, gunna help me?”

    It felt like a ton of bricks had just landed on the merc as he stared open mouthed at the arachnid, who stood there cutely, looking all abashed and whatnot. It was almost too much to even handle for the gun for hire. In his mind there were giant signs pointing to Peter, each one saying something obscene and suggesting, their lights flashing intermittently while Deadpool struggled to merely get out from under the mental block of what Peter had actually said.

     **_Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to accept his invitation._ ** Yellow cooed, trying to urge Wade on.

     **He didn’t mean to help him with** **_that_** **. He just needs help with his clothes.** White retorted, seeming to roll his nonexistent eyes again.

     **_Oh, well I see where your mind is. I didn’t say anything about THAT. Looks like White wants a piece of Spidey ass too._ ** Yellow egged, his voice annoyingly sweet.

     **Well excuse me for assuming you had impure thoughts. It’s not like you usually have any other meaning behind your words.** White defended, seeming a little flustered.

    “Guys shut up, this is important.” Wade mumbled before he went to Peter, who had gone into the bathroom.

    With the close proximity of the bathroom, Wade had to stand behind Peter, the youth’s back pressed up against his chest, “Here, lift your arms up.”

    Peter complied, pulling the garment gingerly from the wall crawler’s body, tossing the offending shirt elsewhere. The nape of Peter’s neck seemed so open, so appetizing, and the redness that spread through his cheeks was beginning to seep to his shoulders and the tops of his ears. The hum that rumbled through Wade’s chest reverberated into Peter’s back, causing the male to lean further back into the merc. He took that as a sign that he was enjoying the closeness, even if he was probably just getting ready to pick his feet up so Wade could take off the pants. Wade complied to that, bending down a bit to tug at the spider’s waistband, his gloved hands brushing the happy trail that disappeared beneath his clothes. Peter gave a stuttering sigh, probably due to his embarrassment, but Wade liked to think it was because he was enjoying being touched, even if only briefly. The merc then pulled the pants down achingly slowly over the male’s hips, the skin porcelain and untouched by anyone else. Every inch of Peter was smooth down from the waistband of his boxers, which Wade left squarely on the youth’s hips, noting that Peter shaved his legs. It was probably so the suit wouldn’t catch painfully on the hairs but it was still sexy as fuck. When Deadpool managed to disentangle those perfectly sculpted legs from the pants, he let them drop, leaving them to pool around Peter’s ankles.

    “Hand me the other shirt.” Wade breathed down over Peter’s neck, gaining a shudder in response.

    “Yeah, um, okay. Here you go.” Peter mumbled, picking up the shirt from the vanity and handing it back to Wade.

    Dressing the spider was much less fun but Wade still took his time and care in the endeavor, situating the shirt on Peter so that it didn’t agitate his wound. Likewise, Wade had Peter step into each pant leg when instructed, pulling up the jeans and even buttoning and zipping the male up, which gained another very clear blush and a bit of squirming. Deadpool would have lingered in that bathroom and made Peter a mewling mess of desire, but he didn’t think he had the right to do that just yet. He had to be proper about it, after all.

     **_Wait, you’re stopping. Proper?! When were we ever proper? Do you feel the sexual tension right now. Like actually, do you see this? He’s not saying no._ ** Yellow asked, insulted.

    “Shhh, you’re ruining the moment. We’re doing it properly because it’s Peter.” Wade mumbled, beating White to the punchline.

    Peter hadn’t even noticed that Wade had said anything, judging by the somewhat dazed look on the arachnid’s face, as seen when Wade glanced into the mirror. He gave a short and almost silent chuckle, he had gotten Peter a little love drunk and he’d call that a win for now. Stepping back and out of the bathroom, Wade raised a hand towards the door, “Alright now that you’re dressed, let’s head out.”

    Peter was shaken awake by Wade’s louder voice, clearing his throat and nodding. The youth said nothing but he had been visibly affected by Deadpool and that made the merc thrum with happiness. But he couldn’t let the tenseness settle back into Peter, so he smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair as he tried to reach for the door, “Let’s go eat all of the tacos. The more tacos, the better. Maybe we could make some art out of tacos and then eat them as our prize?”

    A smile peeked through Peter’s expression and then he was laughing, nodding at the idea, “I could probably eat around a hundred.”

    “Well then I guess we’d best be going.” Wade agreed, opening the door for Peter.

    The pair traveled down to the roadside, the morning air crisp in June, threatening on the extreme cold that seemed to always plague the city. It was a strange sight, Peter Parker with Deadpool, but NYC was used to stranger things running about, so they didn’t draw too many looks. They passed buildings with shops, restaurants, and other apartments, their walk nice and easy to not cause Peter any extreme exertions. It was a beautiful day, Wade had to admit, though there wasn’t enough action going on. Tending to Peter was rewarding, in and of itself, but Wade hadn’t taken a contract in almost a full week. He was starting to get a little trigger happy, wanting someone or something to give him a reason to blow some shit up. Yet, with Spidey around, he wouldn’t be getting away with that very easily.

    The taco shop was just ahead, looking a little less busy than it normally did at that time, but there was no complaint from Wade about that. He was about to pull open the door when he noticed Peter had stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and angry as they stared somewhere ahead of him. Returning to the college student, Wade cocked his head in question. Peter glanced to Wade for a second and then back to whatever he was staring at.

     **I think we broke him.** White stated, trying to look Peter up and down.

     **_But what did we do? I mean, besides be our usual self._ ** Yellow asked, equally confused.

    “Wade, he’s here,” Peter croaked, grabbing Wade’s wrist in a grip that would have crushed a lesser man’s arm, “the man that shot me is here. He’s fucking watching us.”

     **Oh.**

**_Oh._ **

**** “Oh.”

 

~~~

 

    Peter hated to admit it. He didn’t want to think of himself as wanting it. Yet what had transpired in the bathroom had been allowed to happen. He had the ability to stop it, he knew he could have asked Wade to take a much more serious approach to being dressed, but the way he had so lovingly done it, the way his fingers had brushed so carefully against his skin, it was maddening. Peter had watched the mercenary in the bathroom mirror, his pulse having raced so loud, he wondered how Wade _couldn't_ hear it. The college student hadn’t been able to take his eyes away, watching Wade’s hands crawl down his body, lavishing desire through every touch. But it hadn’t been quite enough, no Peter found himself wanting more and being denied.

    There had been undeniable friction between them ever since they had met as Spider-Man and Deadpool, but he was finding that to be slowly melting away with the more time he was spending in Wade’s presence. He didn’t just think of him as Deadpool anymore. Wade was a person, a really fucked up person, but a person nonetheless. He was a man with a traumatic past that wanted friends, and maybe more than that when it came to Peter. But the youth had yet to decide if it was because he was Spider-Man or, if that was the case, if Peter should even be bothered with that fact since he was one and the same with his alter ego.

    But the arachnid had not had time to deliberate because Wade had stepped away all too soon and he found himself missing the contact. Peter was still human, still a man. He craved physical contact and emotional connection. But he was always too worried about his partner to ever seriously have a relationship, which is why it had taken him so long to give MJ the love she had deserved. But Wade, Wade was different. He was strong, crass, and able to take care of himself, even without his inability to die. With Wade, it would be easy. But was his heart ready for that? He didn’t know yet and he didn’t really want to think about it when his stomach was eating itself. So he tried to pretend like he hadn’t been affected, but Wade’s eyes on him told the youth that Deadpool knew the truth: he was inches away from being a mess and it was because of Wade. His skin had crawled in phantom pleasure, a ghost of what could be whispered into his neck. It had been as close to bliss as he’d ever come.

    Yet the merc didn’t press the issue and they were out on the street before there could be any conversation on the topic, Wade carefully removing the tension from the previous interaction with his humor. It allowed the spider to relax, feeling better in his own skin again as they walked. He was able to look around him, take in the scenery and the people. Peter honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had just taken a stroll around NYC, not as Spider-Man, not as a college student, but just as Peter Parker.

    The male found himself observing the people that milled about as they got closer to their destination, Peter opening up his mind and getting various responses from his spider sense as the people came and went. The pleasant tingle of information as he glanced about the street was calming, something familiar and protective about the way he would be alerted by minute changes in his environment. It wasn’t until his spider sense alerted him of a particular feeling that he froze up.

    Peter’s eyes scanned the area carefully, trying not to draw attention but still precise in his searching. He couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the feeling but it was sending ice up his spine. The few people that were on the streets continued to pass them by, some grumbling as Peter stood in their path, yet the male could not find the person he was trying to locate. The wound at his side throbbed harshly as a reminder, Peter’s heart thrummed in his ear, his rage building at a commensive rate. Usually, he would just calmly assess the situation, track them down, and deal with the enemy. But he couldn’t, he didn’t even think he could fight properly in his state, but his desire to stop that man from ever hurting him or anyone ever again was getting the better of him. Obviously, Peter had stopped moving when he had first felt that familiar tingle, so the merc turned questioningly, tensing at what Peter could only assume to be his deadly expression.

    Peter informed Wade of the man as coolly and calmly as he could under the circumstances, his eyes still alight with anger. Wade responded before Peter could even speak again, his hand to his pistol at his waist, eyes obviously scanning the street, though he probably had no clue what to look for. Peter didn’t know where to search either, his senses going too haywire in their warnings. It was like the man was all around him. It was giving the male a killer headache.

    “Where is he, Peter?” Deadpool asked, and this time it wasn’t Wade: he had switched to the cold blooded mercenary and Peter didn’t know if he wanted to change that.

    Yet the second his mind suggested letting Wade kill the man that was tormenting him was the second he managed to steel himself. Spider-Man was not weak, he did not need someone to take care of him. He didn’t need a breath to steady himself, didn’t need a moment to collect his thoughts. Peter simply focused in on the one piece that was making his spider sense go crazy and tracked it, like he _always_ did. He was the master of his mind, he would not let this man undo him.

    However, Peter wasn’t wrong about his first assumption. There were multiple sources of the feeling, causing a small amount of confusion. He decided he’d pick one and investigate, ready to jump into an alleyway when a hand fell on his shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise: he hadn’t sensed anyone.

    “I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s a trap.” the cool and deep voice of Matt filled his ears and he turned around to see a well dressed business man with a cane, his face knowing.

    “Matt? What are you doing here?” Wade asked, obviously not having seen Daredevil either.

    “I’ll explain in a minute. I managed to dig up quite a lot of information; your bad guy was sloppy and those car thieves even sloppier.” Matt explained as he herded them into the pizza shop adjacent to their original destination in a hurry, much to Peter and Wade's mild displeasure. They had been craving tacos.

    “Wow, you work really fast. Remind me to hit you up more often, I’ll even pay you.” Wade nodded his approval, walking into the shop after Peter, shadowing him in barely concealed concern.

    Matt made his way to the back of the shop where there weren’t any patrons, sitting down and situating himself. The arachnid was constantly looking over his shoulder, his mind whirling, unable to concentrate as the sources began multiplying and he laid his head on the table, not caring that it felt dirty. In addition to his spider sense, he was beginning to realize he was actually hearing a low hum that was hurting his ears, accompanying the tingling sensation. Groaning out his discomfort, he struggled to even look at Matt.

    “... something to take his mind off of it.” he caught the last part of the blind man’s sentence.

    All of a sudden, Deadpool was behind him, his arms placed firmly on either side of Peter’s head, bodies flushed. Peter was about to tell the mercenary to quit fooling around, but his senses began to slowly calm, focusing instead on the body surrounding him. The arachnid went limp with relief, his body feeling heavy and abused.

    “The low hum you hear is annoying, believe me I know. It’s what lead me to them in the first place. I guess they weren't counting on another hero with super hearing.” Matt murmured in sympathy, sitting back in his chair with obvious discomfort.

    “Yeah, it’s almost like villains forget that other heroes exist when making their evil plans. Almost like the the studios only want to focus on one franchise at a time with their movies and shows.” Deadpool added, his voice way too close to Peter’s ear.

    “Is he always like that? I only work with him here and there.” Matt explained, pointing to Wade who was busy mumbling something about rights and timelines.

    “Yeah, pretty much. I usually pay it no mind… Regardless, you can detect that awful thrumming sound too? Wow, that’s some amazing hearing. I didn’t realize the scope of your senses.” Peter managed through gritted teeth.

    “I’m apparently still below you in terms of detection, seeing as you're still doubled over from it. Your hearing is remarkable and someone’s using that against you.” Matt folded his hands onto the table, seeming to find the information troubling.

    "I'm not usually this sensitive to sound. Honestly, this is sort of new for me. I have outstanding hearing, don't get me wrong, but this level is... All of my senses are like that, come to think of it. Everything is just a little too loud and in my face." Peter responded, eyes blinking a bit.

    "That's odd. I mean it is quite annoying and I still hear it clearly, but you're suffering from it. What would make your sense suddenly spike like that, I wonder," the man deliberated for a moment before cocking his head in his characteristic way, "perhaps it's a defense mechanism. You're hurt so the powers that aren't linked to fighting have doubled their potency in an attempt to balance out your lack of ability to fight now. Although I'm not a doctor, so I could be wrong. Next time you see Claire, you should ask: out of anyone, she's probably going to know the most about superhero biology."

    Peter nodded against the table, making a mental note of that as the conversation drifted to another topic. Tilting his head a bit, he had to refocus to tune back into the words being spoken with a bit of difficulty. 

    “Wade, after I left your apartment, I realized you hadn’t told me where I could find the guy you were looking for. But, luckily for you I’m a lawyer so I don’t give up easily. I started asking around the city improper and caught wind of some car thieves that saw Spider-Man get shot. I tracked them down and they told me that they didn’t know who the man was. They were still able to point me back to the street it happened on so I went to investigate. I collected as much evidence as I could and had Karen do some research on missing cop cars. Apparently one was stolen a few months ago but they had no leads so they dropped the case.

    “I don’t know where to find the guy but in my searching, I started hearing that annoying buzzing sound that you're hearing right now, Peter. I tracked it to its source and found some lackey setting up these sound casting devices. Needless to say, I beat the information out of him. He told me that he had been hired to set those devices up all over town, said he was just supposed to turn them on and let them play, but that nothing was coming out of the system so he thought it was broken. He didn’t know his employer or what they looked like. I was going around dismantling the devices when I came across you two on the street, which is how I found you.” Matt concluded, spreading his hands on the table to indicate that was all he knew.

    “Damn.” both Peter and Wade muttered at the same time.

    “Jinxies! You owe me a kiss, Peter.” Wade said sweetly.

    “That’s not how it works Wade.” Peter chuckled beneath him, the sound vibrating through both of them.

    “A man can try,” Wade mumbled before looking back to Matt, “so is this sound meant to disorient Spider-Man because the bullet didn’t finish the job?”

    “Most likely, yes. The sound isn’t the thing worrying me, though. Obviously it’s affecting your spider sense, isn’t it?” Matt asked, inclining his head to Peter.

    Peter merely nodded, still feeling a migraine coming on and rubbing the bridge of his nose, “It’s like he’s everywhere and nowhere at once. My senses don’t know what to do.”

    “I’m convinced this person has been watching you for a long time, observing your patterns, learning your capabilities. If he’s found a way to falsely trigger your spider sense, then this could get tricky.” Daredevil sighed, sitting back in thought.

    “So, what do we do?” Peter asked a bit miserably, both his side and head in pain.

    “Well we can make a plan of action after we eat. It’s food time.” Wade muttered, scooping up the menu and unfurling it.

    Both Matt’s and Peter’s stomachs rumbled unceremoniously at the same time, making Wade laugh, “Yep, definitely food time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Sorry about the cliffhanger. I wanted to get this out to you guys so you wouldn't be sitting there waiting too long because I hate it when authors do that. Unfortunately, these last few chapters I've had the bare bones of timelines constructed for them beforehand and I just ran out of them- I've been working on the idea of this story for a while before I ever posted the first chapter- so it'll take me longer to do chapters from here on out. Please bear with me as I am trying to balance an extremely busy schedule.))


	6. Arranged Run-Ins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops Peter got kidnapped, oh no how did that happen? I certainly have no clue <.< >.> \^_^/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, this is a chapter. I probably should have called it "The Exposition Chapter" because that's basically all it is.

    The trio ate for what seemed like hours, each of them inhaling more tacos than any normal human would, their metabolism something out of a science fiction novel, which they pretty much were. Peter seemed to be getting a little better in regards to developing a tolerance to the noise, but his ears still felt like they were bleeding. He was finding it hard to tune out the noise and his body was hotter than normal, like it was making him sick with a fever. If he had to compare it to something, it felt like his body was constantly straining against a physical wall that he wasn’t gaining any ground on. Matt was still keenly aware of Peter’s pain and periodically inquired about his state. Eating while beneath Wade had been a challenge, seeing as his body blocked most of Peter’s movements, but he still managed to eat his fill. Eventually the body heat from the mercenary was only making him feel worse so he gently pushed back, Wade giving slack immediately.

    “You’re really hot, baby boy. And I don’t mean just in the sexy kind of way. You okay?” Wade asked, placing his hand up to the youth’s forehead.

    Peter knew he wouldn’t have been affected like this were he at a hundred percent health but the wound on his side was affecting him. He dug through his knowledge of infections and then groaned inwardly: his wound could be festering and the strain on his nervous system was splitting his body’s energy too much. He couldn’t heal as well as fend off the sound threatening to explode his eardrums. But Peter felt like he should be strong enough: Spider-Man shouldn't let a stupid gunshot wound affect his ability to stop listening to a sound.

    “I remember being overwhelmed by sound when I was a child, when I first got my enhanced senses. I’ll teach you what my master taught me. Listen, focus on one sound beneath the sound of that thrumming. If you can single out a sound, it’ll be easier for you to stop everything from overwhelming you.” Matt’s voice managed to pierce the cacophonous ensemble that was surrounding him.

    “Easier said than done.” Peter mumbled.

    “Just try, baby boy.” Wade’s voice whispered beside him, his arms still like two pillars on either side of his head, a support if he needed it.

    “I’d rather just go home, I think.” he responded, placing his hands over his ears in a futile attempt at relief.

    “Well, perhaps we should return to your apartment, Wade. At least there Peter won’t be in so much pain.” Matt acquiesced, standing fluidly and unfolding his cane.

    “Shouldn’t we go try to take out those things making the sound? That seems like a better idea.” Deadpool’s voice was unreadable for once and Peter glanced at him in question.

    “Yes but also no: I’ve destroyed most of them in an attempt to rid the city of their influence, but there are more than just a couple dozen. They are literally spread around every street. It would take too long and be too hard on both Peter and myself. For now, we must come up with a good plan in order to fight this off or at least make fighting this foe easier. Peter still needs to recover from the gunshot and this won’t help him heal any faster. Honestly, I think it might be time to call in a friend, Peter.” Matt expressed, his eyebrows shooting up in suggestion.

    “He’s way too busy for this. Besides, we haven’t even tried to handle this ourselves. We need to find a solution before we call on him.” Peter shook his head, knowing exactly what Daredevil was asking.

    Iron Man was a ‘I’m literally about to die so I need immediate help of the Avenger variety’ card and Peter didn’t like the idea of calling on Tony for such a simple problem. Plus, he wasn’t looking forward to explaining why he had been shot and divulging his deep mental scars that he was trying his best not to acknowledge. Iron Man was too busy saving the world and Tony Stark was too busy thrusting the next generation onto the scientific playing field to worry about Peter’s newest problem. Not to say that he wouldn’t: Tony had developed into a parental role for Peter when the youth was merely fifteen and new to the superhero gig. Tony’s rather coarse, vulgar, and narcissistic approach to parenting had amused the web slinger at first but then he honestly began seeing the man as a substitute for his own father. He had gotten Tony to play catch once, sans the Iron Man suit, and it had been a heartbreakingly sickly sweet experience. Tony had been there for Peter’s high school graduation, had helped teach him to drive, mostly without Aunt May’s knowledge, and had encouraged his life with Mary Jane. He had been a lot of what Peter had needed growing up and it made Spider-Man the crime stopping machine that he was and Peter the scientific mini-genius that he was. Iron Man was a last call because he respected Tony enough not to involve him unless it was absolutely necessary, not because he didn’t _want_ Iron Man’s help.

    “Alright, but we should keep all our options open. For now, I guess we could get you some earplugs?” Matt asked, a tint of humor in his voice.

    “Am I the only one not sure what you two are talking about?” Deadpool asked, incredulous, gesturing between the two younger men.

    “No Wade, lots of people don’t know what we were speaking of, mostly because we were not very specific in who we were talking about.” Peter responded humorously.

    “Just checking. Okay, we’re going home now?” Wade asked, leaning on Peter like a child, forgoing his previous protector role.

    “Yes Wade, we’re leaving. Come on, the sooner I get away from this noise, the better.” Peter stood along with Matt, lifting Wade effortlessly.

    “I always forget just how strong you are. Will you carry me home, Peter?” Wade squealed, leaning completely onto Peter, his hands clasped dreamily.

    “That’s not happening right now, big boy. Get off before I throw you off.” the youth answered, none of his usual bite in the threat.

    “You _know_ violence is one of my turn ons.” the merc cooed but still stood to his feet as instructed.

    The trio departed from the taco shop, the woman running the counter having addressed Wade directly as they left. It was no wonder they knew each other, Peter mused, the man’s taco obsession was unhealthy to say the least. Outside of the shop, the noise only seemed to grow more intense, leaving the college student feeling as if he were actually going to go deaf, unsure of what he should be listening to in the overwhelming magnitude of the sound. He couldn’t let the other’s know just how badly the noise was affecting him, yet with his nerves being ever more exposed he was realizing that it was becoming more bearable, becoming less debilitating. Instead of the ear splitting high pitched noise, he was picking up the vibrations that the sound was leaving upon the air and it was plucking at something deep within him, his spider sense intrigued instead of wary. Without anything to block his senses, he was understanding that the sound and sensory trigger were in tandem, and together they caused an emergent property, in that case the result was soothing. It was almost like a pull, the sound annoying enough to procure his attention, but not nearly as irritating as it had been when only the sound or spider sense had been triggered. The arachnid blinked, shaking his head out of the reverie: he could ignore that lure, especially after recalling that Matt had said it was most likely a trap. Whether the method was to annoy him until he sought its destruction or to entice him until he sought its collection, he would not let it fool him. Once they had a plan worked out, then he would consider following the sound to a specific source. Until then, he had to get his rising headache to stop pounding against his skull.

    “I’m going to need so many Tylenol when we get back to your apartment.” Peter mumbled to them as they stood on the curbside.

    “I got that covered… actually no I don’t. We should stop by a convenience store so I can get some. I used all of my Tylenol a week ago,” Wade admitted, making Peter frown in worry, “don’t give me that look, you know I’m okay.”

    “Yeah, you’re okay but that doesn’t mean that you’re alright.” Peter stated, walking towards the convenience store he had spotted a few blocks away.

    “I can take care of myself, baby boy. You don’t have to worry.” Wade said, walking a bit behind Peter, Matt bringing up the caboose.

    “Yeah yeah, I’m going to get the medicine, you stay here.” Peter rolled his eyes, arriving at the shop’s storefront.

    “Uhuh, nope. _I’ll_ get the medicine. _You_ stay here.” Wade insisted, already trying to go around Peter and beat him to the door.

    “You guys sound like a married couple.” Matt mused, laughter in his voice.

    “Ya hear that Peter, even Matty agrees!” Deadpool chimed before he disappeared into the store.

    Peter simply sighed and leaned against the building, his head pressed against the cold of the brick and mortar. Matt didn’t speak, simply standing beside the arachnid, sharing the silence that existed between them. Peter hadn’t always been good with silence, especially as a teenager, but that ability had grown with time and his own maturity to the point that he understood that silence didn’t always equal awkward. The wall crawler stood there, concentrating on anything but the pinprick that the thrumming was still creating. Yet the more he tried to ignore it, the more he was being drawn in by the vibrations. It fed into a part of him that he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge: that deep, animalistic thing that was more spider than human that occasionally reared its ugly head.

    Peter decided that Wade was taking too long after he had been standing out there for at least ten minutes and he didn’t want to just wait any longer. Plus, he had remembered that they needed to get more gauze and he doubted Wade would remember. The doorbell chimed mercilessly above him and he flinched from the noise, scurrying to the isle with first aid labeled on its sign. It wasn’t hard to find the gauze and he picked out a random pack, not even bothering with picking a brand. The florescent lights above his head were stinging his eyes, the cleaning supply smell burning his nose. It was like when he had first gotten his powers: everything was way too vivid, too close. He couldn’t remember how to dilute the sensory input, to bring himself down a notch. Instead he staggered around the store, trying to find Wade, becoming frustrated after a few empty isles.

    However, the arachnid did stumble across earbuds and grabbed a pack of those, forgoing any further searching as he made his way to the register. Despite being miserable, he tried to be pleasant to the man at the counter, paying for his items before turning around once more. Despite his usual reflexes, the turn caught his balance off guard and he tripped on his own two feet, an arm catching him and stopping his descent. He half expected a smiling Deadpool to be beside him, asking to carry Peter or something, but instead it was a man with worried brown eyes, general concern written on his features. The black hair that peeked from beneath his baseball cap didn’t immediately strike Peter, he simply smiled kindly and righted himself, observing the old leather jacket and ripped jeans that adorned the man.

    “You okay there? I would have thought you’d be more agile for a superhero.” the chillingly familiar voice froze Peter where he stood and his words wouldn’t work.

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” his voice wasn’t as steady as he had wanted it to be.

    “Oh, no? You’re not Peter Parker, aka, Spider-Man?” the man asked, his eyes burning into Peter, his words barely above a whisper.

    He was imagining the likeness, this wasn’t the man who had shot him. There was no way that this man could have tracked him down as Peter Parker. Except something in his mind clicked and he put a hand to his side, horror undoubtedly written in his features. The other man’s eyebrow tilted upwards in question and then he smiled, the gesture friendly but at the same time promising that evil rested just beneath the surface.

    “So you’re smarter than you look. Yes, your file said as much. Top of your class, huh? That’s impressive. Yes, the bullet expelled a small tracking device when it came into contact with your flesh. We tracked you easily but there was no clear opening until now.” the man’s voice was light, as if they were merely old friends catching up.

    Peter’s mouth went dry, his eyes way too wide, the tingle of fear probing through him like an unwelcomed guest. The wall crawler’s eyes shifted between the shelves, trying to find sight of Wade. It made no sense, the merc had somehow disappeared.

    “If you’re looking for the other man, the one in the spandex, he’s busy chasing a few of my associates. He was so easily tempted. One whisper of your name had him running out the back door yelling something about torture methods.” the man continued his peaceful tone, shrugging as if it were something that just happened sometimes.

    The man behind the counter was none the wiser to their conversation, having already surmised that the next customer wasn’t going to be coming to the register anytime soon. Peter also didn’t want to involve him, and, glancing at the storefront, Matt was standing around but he had doubts as to whether he could get to Peter in time to be of any service. His heart went heavy and his blood ran cold, his fists clenching up.

    “Ah, none of that. We can’t have you causing a scene, now can we? Just be a good spider and come with me quietly.” the man responded, moving his jacket to reveal the same gun from before.

    “You know, for a law enforcer, you really don’t understand the whole ‘protect and serve the citizenry' do ya?” Peter laughed, using his sarcasm as a defence.

    “Well it’s a good thing I’m not law enforcement. Now I don’t want to hurt you,” he gave Peter a warning look when the youth laughed darkly, “but I will put a bullet in your legs if you make me.”

    “So you’re not using lethal force? That’s useful information, thank you.” with that Peter’s hand shot out, gripping the other’s wrist and twisting decidedly.

    The snapping sound and the guttural scream that resulted from the action made Peter flinch, but a snapped wrist was better than being dead, the college student surmised. He would have made a different move but the man couldn’t shoot Peter if he didn’t have a usable hand to shoot with. It was in the same motion that he was reaching for the man’s other wrist when his spider sense warned him. He was jumping back before he could even understand why, the man’s other hand having swung outwards at Peter, a knife clutched in his fist. The rage the web slinger observed beneath those brown irises was frightening, causing him to duck into an isle.

    “What the hell are you two-” there was a ringing shot and then a body dropping to the floor.

    Peter’s own rage built, the store owner didn’t deserve to die. He hadn’t done anything. It had been Peter’s fault that he had been so sloppy the first time around. He needed to stop this madman before he did something that would surely cause the death of more innocents. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not he could be stopped, it was a matter of how Peter was going to do it, seeing as he could feel his side already bleeding again.

    “Peter!” came a very strong voice, a familiar one that had the youth swiveling his head to the storefront.

    Matt was there, his cane folded and discarded, his face angry and focused on the man by the counter. It happened too quickly for Peter to say anything, his vocal chords straining to work. Matt was suddenly on the floor, kicking away a man Peter hadn’t seen prior. His friend looked pained, like that man had gotten the drop on him, which Peter supposed he had, seeing as he hadn’t heard the goon until he was already on top of Matt. The sound of a gun clicking had both Matt and Peter still, their muscles locked, tension bleeding through the following silence.

    “You had another friend? How interesting! My research didn’t suggest this. No matter, I was prepared for this possibility.” the man drawled and then there was the highest pitched sound Peter had ever heard, blood undoubtedly dripping from his ears at the sound.

    It was painful, it was sickening and Peter almost lost his lunch at the churning of his stomach. He was falling to the ground before he even knew he had lost his balance, the light headed feeling in his head expanding until he realized he was losing consciousness. Matt’s body fell like the dead onto the floor and it was the last thing Peter saw as he went under. His head hit the floor, the sound muffled to his damaged ears, and then there was darkness.

 

~~~

 

    Wade hadn’t noticed the men in the back, his focus on trying to find the Tylenol in the sea of medicine before him. However, when he had heard whispering, it was almost his job to listen in. Years of mercenary work did that to people, Wade supposed. The voices were hushed, frantic, nervous, like what they had to hide was something that involved life or death. And the second he heard Peter’s name pass between them, he decided that it was a matter of life and death. Deadpool put back the medicine with a careful hand and rounded the corner, pistol already drawn, his head cocked in a friendly manner.

    “My plot device senses are tingling.” Wade smiled to himself as he sized the men up.

     ** _Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle!_** Yellow encouraged.

     **Yes, do probe them for information regarding Peter.”** White consented, his voice not as irritated as usual.

    “So, what are you saying about my Petey baby behind his back? You know gossiping isn’t very good but I’m willing to make an exception for you. Spill all the pretty details before I spill all your pretty guts.” Wade explained, gesturing his gun between the two.

    They exchanged glances and then they were tearing out of the building, causing Wade to simply sigh, kicking off the shelf he had leaned on and shoving through the door. The alley behind the building was mysteriously empty, save for the pattering of feet running off down an interconnected backroad. He shook his head, running after the receding sounds in annoyance. It was still cold out so a nice run would warm up his body, making him more limber were it to come to a fist fight.

     **_Why do they always run? Like can’t they make it simple, for once?_ ** Yellow complained, not liking that they had to exert energy for the menial task.

     **Maybe because they don’t like the idea of dying. And I thought you loved the chase.** White retorted with equal annoyance.

     **_Not when we have a sick Spider in need of medicine waiting on our happy ass._ ** Yellow countered, seeming like a child forced to go shopping with his mother.

    It was a short run, Deadpool vaulting over trash bins, parked cars, and shopping carts that had been left in the alleyways. The two men lacked Wade’s stamina and speed, yet the two got a good distance before he caught up to them, his aim true as he lined up the shot, seeing their exposed backs after hopping onto the second car in the alley. A single shot to both of their right legs had them on the ground before him, writhing in their pain, their gurgled screeches in total fear. He much prefered when his prey was cornered and immobilized, it made his job so much easier. They looked stereotypically greek: big eyes, straight nose, dark features, and they were scared shitless, much to Wade’s amusement.

    “Alright, listen here for a second. I don’t appreciate that you just walked out on me for no reason. We were having a lively conversation,” Wade said, standing above one of the men, cocking the pistol and aiming it at his head, “okay let’s try this again. You answer me when I ask you a question and you get to go home to whatever shit hole you crawled out of with most of your limbs and your life. Let’s start with your names, shall we?”

    The two didn’t move and Wade lost his patience, “TELL ME YOUR NAMES, NOW!”

    The men sputtered a bit, glancing to each other before the one that Wade stood over buckled and nodded, “M-My name is Timun Lazos and that’s Damon Georgiadis. W-We were told to walk into that store and t-talk about Peter Parker. And we were told to run if you came talking to us.”

    “You idiot!” the other man screeched and spoke in hurried, angry Greek, something Deadpool remembered from his time spent in Greece for a particularly long job.

     **_Peter. Go back now._ **

**** **Peter. Go back now.**

    The voices melded together in Wade’s head, confusing him into delirium for a second. It wasn’t unusual for them to talk at once, it was just unusual for them to do it with such finality and volume. But his body remembered how to move before his mind could catch up with him and he was already running back towards the convenience store. Normally, the merc would have killed the men for their insolence, but Peter was more important and likely in trouble. Killing the goons could wait: he had seen their faces and had gotten their names so they wouldn’t get away if Wade really wanted to track them down.

    He always moved fast when the place he was going to promised that Spidey would be there, but this speed was borderline breaking his muscles apart. Pushing himself to a breaking point was an understatement as he ran back through the alleys, cursing his easily enticed mind. He always fell for traps way too easily, never mind that it never mattered when his life was the one at stake. This time it was Peter paying the price and that burned him more than anything had in decades. So when he came back to the shop, he pulled the fucking door from the hinges with the force of his anger alone.

    Nothing seemed amiss except that there was a distinct lack of a store clerk behind the counter and a quick sniff test revealed blood in the air. Walking over and glancing behind the counter confirmed his suspicions, seeing the deceased man laying in his own blood, probably not have even been given a decent reason as to why he had been shot. Turning to his left, he found Matt laying on his back, completely blacked out. Wade hoped he didn’t have a concussion or anything because he really needed the blind man to tell him what had happened. He bent next to him and shook Matt but there was no response, the man seemingly dead. Dread pooled in the merc’s chest and he put his fingers to the man’s wrist. There was a pulse, at the very least.

    “Hey, Matt. Listen, I need you to wake up. Matt.” there was still no response from the hero.

     **He doesn’t appear to be waking up anytime soon. Maybe we should take him to Claire?** White asked, trying to find the source of injury.

     **_What about Peter?! They have him! He might be dead!_ ** Yellow erupted, his rage building to an unfathomable point that made Wade want to go un-alive lots of people.

     **If whoever took him was going to kill him right away, they would have done so already. We would have found his body, not the absence of one.** White reasoned, trying to ease all of their anxiety

    “Alright, let’s get him to Claire's place, then we ask what happened.” Wade responded, preparing to heft up to man with a hand under his knees and one under his back.

     **Wait, if he has a head wound, we don’t want to move him. It could damage him further. Call Claire and have her come here.** White demanded.

    “Good idea.”

    He pulled out his phone from one of his miraculous pockets, dialing the number he had programmed into it. It rang for a while, as if the owner was debating whether or not she should pick up before Claire answered, _“Hello?”_

    “Hey, Claire. Okay, so Matt’s in front of me on the ground, out cold. I’m not sure if he was hit on the back of the head or something but he’s still breathing so he’s not dead.” Wade explained, moving his head to look at Matt from different angles.

     _“Where are you?”_ her voice was no longer annoyed and bored, instead it held a determination and worry that he knew meant she was taking this seriously.

    Wade recited the store name and the street it resided on, following Claire’s directions to not touch Matt and to make sure no one else entered the shop. The merc switched the sign on the front window to 'Closed' and locked the store doors, looking around for anything that might help him while Claire was on her way. Spying a video camera, the merc had an epiphany as he moved to the back of the counter, gingerly stepping over the deceased man. He found the blinking piece of machinery that was the camera's control panel and pulled up the day’s video, pausing the current recording so Claire wouldn’t be documented, as he was sure she didn’t want to be seen. The video started early that morning and he fast forwarded the tape until he saw Peter’s face. He had tripped over his own two feet in an adorable manner, a small bag of something he must have bought in his hands. The man he bumped into was quick to catch him, and the store clerk just seemed annoyed. Wade couldn’t hear what was being said but he could see the moment that Peter turned in realization to the figure whose back was to the camera. A proud feeling swelled in his chest when Peter obviously broke his attacker's wrist and he could almost hear the crack through the video. He got to watch as the man shot the clerk and then do something with his unharmed hand after Matt had come barreling in, shaking off another guy. Both Matt and Peter buckled, their hands going to their ears, their bodies hitting the floor hard. The last thing he got to see was the man picking Peter’s body up almost gently, his hand brushing the youth’s hair from his unconscious face. And at last, the moment he had been waiting for. That man looked up, his demeanor darkened as he spotted the camera. Every detail of his face was revealed, the features not befitting the cliche bad guy, but that didn’t matter because he had touched Peter so he had to die regardless of his looks. Why the man hadn’t grabbed the tape became evident when he looked towards the back door and then booked it out the front door. The rage that boiled beneath Wade’s skin was almost enough for the merc to start spitting fire: that filthy pig was touching _his baby boy_.

    Wade took the tape with him, thinking it would prove useful and returned to Matt’s side just as Clair ran through the back door. Her face was red from her anxiety and the slight chill, “Alright go grab one of those ice packs from the back.” she instructed as she took the last few steps to Matt.

    It still surprised the gun for hire that she could so easily get to work to save a life, even if her own was at risk. So Wade complied and brought over what she had asked, watching as her face went from worry to horror. She shook her head and ran her fingers around his head, frowning. Glancing over her shoulder and around the store, her eyes asked what had happened and Deadpool picked up a few candy bars from the shelf, moving to sit over by her on the floor. He arranged each candy bar like so and then took a breath.

    “Ok so the bad guy is this Twix bar because he’s a lying, two-faced, son-of-a-bitch… Sorry, I don’t like Twix. This mr.Goodbar is Matt because he’s a great guy who tried to help Peter. This Dove is Peter because he’s fucking amazing, also expensive as shit, holy fuck this chocolate bar is like five dollars. Anyway, from the video tape I snagged, this is what happened. Peter was at the register here and so was the bad guy. They had an interaction, Peter snapped this guy’s wrist, and then Matt came in,” Wade was angling all the chocolate bars with ease as he depicted their part in the play, “then the bad guy does something and both Peter and Matt fall to the ground, covering their ears. Bad guy made off with Peter.”

     **Really, a demonstration?** White asked, exasperated.

    Claire stared at Wade for a bit and then nodded, turning her attention back to Matt, “So, then that means… Yeah, Peter and Matt both were exposed to a high pitch sound, one we can’t hear. There’s blood so I think we should get him to an actual doctor. This is beyond me.”

     **_Hey, looks like it helped her. Suck on that you goody two-shoes._ ** Yellow responded, his voice making obscene gestures at White.

    “Right, you take care of Matt, I’m going after Peter.” Wade said, moving towards the back door, ignoring the voices.

    “How are you going to find him?” Claire asked hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

    Deadpool didn’t turn around. He simply held up the tape with a quick, dark chuckle, “I saw that fucker’s face. He’s _not_ getting away from me.”

    “Then you best get to goddamn work.” Claire’s steeled voice came from behind him.

     **_I like angry Claire._ ** Yellow noted with humor.

    “Yes, fucking, ma’am.” Wade grinned before he was out the back door, already dialing up a few go-to informants.

 

~~~

 

    Pain was the first thing his mind comprehended, groaning as his body curled in on himself. There were incessant and annoying buzzing and clicking sounds in his ear at the base of his eardrum that were immediately giving him a headache. Peter refused to open his eyes at first, trying to gather as much information as possible. Yet when he listened, his hearing was definitely suffering. Blinking into wakefulness, he let his eyes adjust to the somewhat dark atmosphere. It was cold, or maybe he was just cold because his side was still stinging and he couldn’t tell if the wound was still open or not.

    Glancing around told him nothing as he seemed to just simply be in a room with a single bed that he was laying on and a clock directly above his head. It was a rather large room, one that felt ominous in its vast emptiness that made the spider part of him shudder: there were no hiding places. The only color that persisted in the room was grey: grey walls, grey sheets, grey concrete, grey bedframe. Judging by the feel, the smell, and the look of the place, he wanted to say he was in a warehouse, maybe in a back room or something. The arachnid was about to swing his legs out from under the covers when the sound of a door opening, noticeably more muffled than his usual perceptive sense of hearing would otherwise convey, came to his attention.

    “Ah, Peter, you’re awake. Good, we were starting to worry. Now don’t pay any mind to your hearing right now, we have nanobots currently reconstructing your eardrums to the way they were before.” the sickly sweet voice of the man before him explained, coming to stand by the bed, his right arm in a sling.

    Peter felt so weak, so tired, so completely defenseless but he gathered the last of his energy, preparing to leap at the offending man, “Ah, no, please don’t try that. I’d hate to damage you further. You’re truly a wonderful specimen and your body has already gone through so much. Please, just stay and rest or I will be forced to bring in reinforcements.”

    The youth responded by glaring at the man, trying to decipher whether or not the man was bluffing, “Who are you and what do you plan to do to me?”

    “Straight to the point. Those aren’t the only questions that matter, you know. Everyone always wants to know those first though, as if it will make their situation any easier. Why not exist in blissful ignorance?” the man sighed like he was generally confused.

    “Answer my questions.” Peter demanded, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

    “I’m Dr. Greisin, a researcher of genetic mutations. As for what I want from you, I simply want to study you. I came across your DNA quite by accident. In fact, you saved me from a burning building and some shrapnel had grazed your shoulder during an explosion resulting from the fire. Your blood fell onto my shirt and I was able to lift a sample from it. I was fascinated so I began to follow your works, watching the news, catching glimpses of you in action. I observed you in your natural habitat for years, honing in on exactly how I could gather data. And then one day, it clicked. I hired a bunch of men to fight you, funded their actions and collected data on how you fought, your triggers, your powers, and, most importantly, your weaknesses. None of this mattered for the longest time, of course, since any weakness you had was made practically useless by that spider sense of yours. Sensing actions before they happen? It was confounding. I was at the final stages of implementing the auditory test, the buzzing and vibrations, when I noticed a deterioration in your reflexes. I only had a day or two to devise a way to utilize that moment of weakness and I was already being stretched thin with the audio test so I didn’t have time to fully take advantage of your weakness or stop the auditory stimulation. So I had to act and that wound is the unfortunate side effect. But now that you’re here, we won’t have to hurt you anymore, so long as you behave.” came the long explanation, Greisin eyeing Peter as if he were a fine meal and the doctor was starving, his good hand rubbing his bad arm like he was embarrassed.

    The arachnid was loath to acknowledge the dark light that dwelled just beneath the irises of the doctor’s gaze, his body shuddering nonetheless, “Okay, stalker much? What is the end goal then? Am I just going to be kept here and experimented on?”

    “No, of course not. I didn’t want to take you out of your natural habitat but I had to. I will take samples and observe you for a few months, make sure you are healthy. Then we will hopefully be able to recreate your gene sequence. At that point, if you survive, I’ll take you to my personal abode. I would love to release you back to the public but then you’d interfere with my work. I’ll treat you very well and you’ll want for nothing. I hope to become friends through all of this.” Dr. Greisin explained further, arm opened in a friendly gesture.

    “I don't like the idea of being a caged boy toy. You’re infringing on my rights as a human being.” Peter growled, slightly overwhelmed.

    “But are you still basically human?” the doctor inquired in a cheeky voice.

    “Fine, animals still have rights, if you want to go there. It’s unethical in the very least.” Peter tried, still trying to calculate his chance of escape.

    “Yes, we are well aware. But certain actions and liberties must be made available for the advancement of science. Surely you agree as a fellow scientist. Peter Parker is supposed to revel in biology and genetics.” the man tried to assuage his concerns but it wasn’t helping the wall crawler in the least bit.

    “I don’t give my consent to this. Release me or I’ll release myself.” Peter promised, bringing his feet below him in the crouch he had been slowly moving his body into.

    “You're in no position to be exerting yourself. My team and I have no desire for continued damage to your person but we will act if that’s necessary.” the man said, already taking a step back.

     Peter steeled himself and whipped his hands from his sides, making his usual hand motion to shoot his webs. The white substance connected to the man and he yanked, pulling the doctor to hit the wall next to him, then sprung to the opposite wall. Greisen started speaking in what sounded like Greek and the door opened, allowing men with what looked like cow prods to fumble into the room. Peter merely scaled the wall higher and then onto the ceiling, ignoring his pain. Instead of dropping to the floor and commit to hand to hand combat, like he had wanted, he found himself frozen. His body wouldn’t respond as he tried to do anything: raise his hand, move his feet, even wiggle his toes. The arachnid felt himself falling from the ceiling before he could even realize his grip had slacked.

    “Catch him!” Greisin’s worried voice called out and hard, uncomfortable arms surrounded him before he could hit concrete.

    “Well, looks like the inhibitors are working just fine. Okay so, Peter what you are experiencing are the nanobots that we placed in your system. While they were repairing your hearing, they accessed your nervous system so at any point during your stay here we can activate them and they will seize your bodily functions. Please refrain from resistance: the nanobots will eventually cause damage to your nervous system.” the doctor explained, gesturing for Peter to be put back on the bed.

    “Where did you get nanobots?” came Peter’s struggling voice.

    “Alien technology is useful. I synthesized them using our own, human technology and what the aliens left behind. Aren’t they wonderful? They’ll help me in my research of your DNA.” the doctor exclaimed in pride.

    “So I’m just a model organism now? Great, yeah that was surely what I aspired to be when I was a child. You guys are really handsy, you know.” Peter laughed darkly, his hazel eyes no doubt cold and determined.

    “You talk a lot, don’t you?” one of the goons noted with annoyance.

    “Now, now, an active mind requires an active vocabulary and vocal explanatives.” the man hushed, smiling fondly at Peter.

    “What?” the goon asked, the confusion on his face causing both Peter and Greisin to chuckle, much to Peter’s chagrin and the doctor’s euphoria.

    “We will leave you to rest now, Mr. Parker. Please treat this space as yours and act as you would like. A call button is placed at your bedside for your convenience. Should you require the facilities, a shower and toilet are in the next room to your right. You will be supplied with dinner in a few hours. Now, please excuse us.” the doctor herded all of the men and himself out of the space, the door closing with a sense of finality behind them.

    Peter was immediately standing, combing the room for weaknesses. He scaled every wall, the ceiling, and combed the floor, testing the materials at different places. He concluded that the wall his bed was placed up against was the most thin, but he still estimated its thickness as more than a few feet based on the vibrations that returned to him when he tapped the surface. No handle existed on the door his captors had left through and he was positive he wouldn’t be opening it since it lacked any hinges: it was a sliding slab door of concrete. Examining the bathroom proved just as fruitless, the amenities lackluster but just as sturdy. A few lights existed in the ceiling, illuminating every inch of the space save for one corner at the top of the room, to the right of the door.

    Peter had never felt so isolated before, the buzzing in his ears growing less persistent before the it ceased entirely a few hours later. He had been pacing around the space before he had grown too tired and his body too pained to keep up the activity. Despite himself, he had tried to sleep, hoping that the warmth of the covers would ease him into unconsciousness. Yet it was not to be, his mind too busy whirling with the current predicament and his demons to actually rest. At some point, he decided that he didn’t like the thought of being observed in such a lit space, seeing as he had been able to hear the whir of cameras in the corners of the room as soon as the nanobots had finished their work on his eardrums. Peter scaled the wall of the dark space in the corner, making a hammock of webbing. He curled up on the comforting substance with the blanket wrapped around him, placing a hand to the side that seemed not to be openly bleeding any longer.

    Somewhere in the time that elapsed, the door was opened and food was brought in. At first he hadn’t touched it, merely glaring at the offending tray, but his stomach was persistent and the aroma was appealing. Eventually, he gave in and lowered himself by web down to the floor, his bare feet prickling against the cold of the concrete. The food that he found was warm, the soup something that he would have called homemade if he weren’t where he was. Peter wasn’t sure how to differentiate between regular soup and poisoned or tampered with soup so he sighed and decided that they wouldn’t kill him if they wanted to study him. Picking up the spoon and tasting a smidge of the red liquid, he discovered a very creamy and nicely salty tomato soup. His body relaxed of its own accord and he found that the bowl was already gone before he realized he had eaten it all. But the soup settled in the pit of his stomach, warming his core and allowing him to feel more relaxed beneath the blanket as he returned to the hammock.

    Peter didn’t sleep, even with food in his stomach. He had tried, but his night terrors kept him from more than an hour or two of rest. He had screamed himself awake the first time at 11:43 at night since the clock above the bed was digital and provided that information. The second time he woke up by nearly falling from his perch at 2:08. The wall crawler then applied more webbing so that he couldn’t simply roll out of his hammock, feeling a little safer for his effort. After the third time of being awoken by his mind’s darkest conjurings an hour after his second episode, Dr. Greisin opened the door. At first Peter paid no mind to it, his body and mind feeling inches away from breaking down. But the doctor speaking forced him to pay attention.

    “Peter, your body needs to rest, please take these: it will help you sleep.” the voice suggested as if he were actually concerned with Peter as a person instead of Peter as a specimen.

    “Won’t work. My healing factor doesn’t allow me to take sleeping pills anymore. I developed an immunity because I had been using them so much.” Peter explained wearily, not bothering to look down at his captor.

    “We would appreciate it if you tried, Mr. Parker.” Greisin explained, holding up a tray of a small bottle of pills and a glass of water.

    Peter didn’t move to get the items and the doctor sighed, placing the tray on the bed and sitting next to it, “Listen, I know you’re not happy with these new accommodations but it won’t always be like this. Eventually you’ll willingly submit to me and then you’ll be much more at ease.”

    “Hah, you act like I’m a little boy you rescued from the streets of New York. I have a family and they’re probably worried sick. I was supposed to check up on them but now they’re probably frantic again. I hope for your sake that Deadpool doesn’t fin-”

    “Deadpool? Ah yes, the man I sent on a wild goose chase,” Dr. Greisin interrupted Peter, who had turned to face the man with angered eyes, “Why would you count on that man to save you? He already rescued you once, perhaps he doesn’t want to deal with such… _trouble_.” the doctor suggested, smiling up at Peter’s hostility.

    The doctor had a point: Spider-Man had been the source of such tension for so long that maybe Wade wouldn’t be bothered. Sure Wade liked him but it might not be enough to get another rescue out of the anti-hero. But why had he immediately thought of Wade, anyway? He should be trying to call Iron Man: the man was his almost father after the events of his highschool days with the Vulture. Peter knew Tony would come at the drop of a pen and that he would give Peter a talking to for letting himself go in such a manner. But the arachnid didn’t want Tony to save him… he wanted Wade to? It was such a childish thought that he laughed to himself and shook his head.

    “You know, you’re right. But that’s okay. Spider-Man doesn’t need anyone to save him.” Peter explained, already getting up to leap at the man, his muscles screaming from the nanobots beginning to grip at his nervous system.

    But he leaped nevertheless and collided with the doctor, sending them both scrambling on the ground, Peter fighting through the harsh grip on his body. He managed to entomb the doctor in webbing before he lost all mobility and fell like a brick, occasionally twitching from over extended nerves fighting against the nanobots. Greisin made unintelligible noises and squirmed around in anger, hurried Greek tumbling from his mouth once more. The arachnid hazily recognized the sentence as the one he had said prior and caught the latter half of the sentence. A sliding sound was created by the door opening and in came more goons, each bigger than the last, three standing above Peter’s paralyzed form and the rest over the doctor’s, trying to cut him out of the web. It took an extended amount of time before they managed to pull away the sticky substance from the man, who stood with barely concealed rage.

    “Alright, I can see you’re not going to do as I ask. Fine, you want to play rough, we’ll play rough.” the doctor spat in a heavy accent, not altogether collected enough to keep up his NYC impression.

    “You were always going to have to play rough. I have every intention of making this as hard as possible for you _doctor_.” Peter responded through clenched teeth.

    “Restrain him on the bed.” came the curt response and then there was a hand coming down to reach under his head.

    Peter gathered all his energy and turned, biting the flesh that foolishly came too close to his face as hard as was possible, tasting blood as his reward. There was a scream, a muttering of obscenities that Peter had never heard before, which surprised him given he lived in New York, and then there was an engaged face over his and a quick, “You little motherfucker!” before a fist connected with his jaw and he was out like a light.

 

~~~

 

   “I swear, I ain’t never seen that dude before. But I’ve heard of him. Word is that some doctor fella by the name of Greisin was asking around for guys to go toe to toe with Spider-Man a little while back. He got a few takers and that was it. That’s all I know, I swear.” the man Wade had pinned up against a wall explained in a hurried tone, fear in his eyes.

    He lowered Arthur from the man’s throat and returned the katana to its sheath with a smile, “See that wasn’t so hard, now was it? Thank you for your involuntary participation.”

    Deadpool released the man and he scampered away, leaving the merc with a little more information than the last few people he had tracked down. Weasel- his informant, arms dealer, etc- gave up a few names and the man’s identity after using the tape Wade had given him for only a few grand and the promise of tacos. But most of the names had come up empty handed and, without any other leads to explore, Wade was fast approaching rock bottom again.

     **_Well just standing here won’t help Peter. We have one more name to look in on, right? Plus, if this one doesn’t pan out, we have Weasel looking in on the good doctor’s recent whereabouts._ ** Yellow tried, urging them to start moving again.

    Wade continued to stare at the wall, his mind pouring over every fact he had collected thus far and sighed his anger, punching the brick wall in front of him. He ignored the pain, his thoughts kindly reminding him that the _one second_ he had let Peter out his sight was _the very second_ that his baby boy had been taken. He was loath to even consider the possibility of the things they were doing to Peter. Doctors were never to be trusted and now one that had a history of fascination with genetic mutations had his grubby mitts on the wall crawler.

     **As much as it pains me to do so, I agree with Yellow. We need to get moving. It’s been over twelve hours since Peter was taken. You need to focus or we really will lose our window of opportunity.** White tried, his voice harsher, more demanding.

     **_With our baby boy’s mouth, he could have already said something he shouldn’t have and gotten into some trouble with the doctor. What if he cuts off Peter’s tongue? That would be horrible, we’d never get to hear him say our name in disgust again._ ** Yellow lamented.

    “Alright, I get it. No rest for the wicked.” Wade muttered and made his way out of the alleyway, the moon shining almost accusingly at his lack of any substantial plans.

    Deadpool had gotten Claire and Matt to the hospital where they immediately put the latter into reconstructive surgery. From the news Claire had given him later, Matt would be fine, perhaps a little less acute in his hearing but nothing that would drastically affect his extracurricular activities. Wade paid for the operation and had tracked down his friend a few hours later, gaining what little information he then had at his disposal. The merc’s influence and network was vast but he didn’t have access to some of the records that fancy bigwigs like the doctor kept close to the vest and he didn’t know who he could go beat the information out of. The only lead that remained were the two men who had lured Wade away in the first place. Weasel had tracked them to a small dive bar on the edge of the city, the black market to be exact.

    Deadpool felt as if he were grasping at straws as he walked up to the establishment. The exterior gave nothing in the way of preparation for the big time black market that was based out of it. It was all cracked brick, stained sidewalks, and half lit neon signs flashing above the entrance. But the large, nicely dressed man that stood at the door marked the place as something more than just a shitty hangout. Normally there were protocols and paperwork to be filled out so that there was no law enforcement getting in but all Wade had to do was look at the bouncer and the door was opened for him. Deadpool was infamous in the underground and he held power and swing over the black market if he wished to exert it.

    “Yo, Pool! What are you doing back around these parts? We thought you jumped ship!” a boisterous voice called from the inky blackness filled with smoke, dancers, booths, and silent auctions, drowned out by the base pounding music.

    “I’ve come to find a man, well two men. They probably aren’t here but maybe they were. They are about my height, pretty Greek looking with olive skin, straight noses, big brown eyes, and black hair. They go by Timun Lazos and Damon Georgiadis.” Wade greeted the large bartender, leaning against the bar tiredly.

    “Well, I know that they came around a couple times a few days ago. Bought some high grade putang and wine. They made several extravagant bids and drank the night away. I wrote their names down so many times that night for their tab that I practically had them memorized. Had a bunch of cold cash on them so they were hard to forget- the amount of cash they threw around was almost too much for their wallets and pockets. They got mugged more than once and still had thousands to shell out. I got them drunk, figuring they’d be useful to know about, as is obvious. So what can I get if I continue offering my informative services?” the man rolled with laughter, good natured but still business oriented.

    “I’ll give you three grand if you tell me everything you know.” Deadpool smiled, offering the wad discretely in his palm.

    The giant of a man nodded and took the cash, leaning in lower, “They are actually here tonight. Said something about nursing a gunshot wound with some lively action but their bodies looked fine. I sent them to the back, over to the VIP section. Take this and you’ll be let in.” the bartender slipped a card into Wade’s hand and made the hat tip gesture with two fingers.

    Wade meandered to the VIP section and flashed the card, the men not bothering to spare the merc a second glance. It was easy to find the pair, all curled up with a few girls. Deadpool opened their room door and cleared his throat, gesturing the girls out. He received giggles from the two women and noises of anger and distress from the men as the females walked out, “Don’t make them hurt too bad, Wadey-Poo, they are some of our best customers.”

    “No promises this time, Starla.” Wade responded, kissing the woman’s hand before she sauntered off, closing the door as she departed.

    When he returned his attention to the pair, they had guns pointed at him, “Oh, got the draw on me, huh? Well it’s a good thing this suit is a throwaway. Let’s get down to business boys. So here’s just a _random_ question, just totally thought of it on my own: where's your boss Greisin?”

    There were two shots and he felt his stomach convulse and his left lung shrivel. A few moments later and he could breath again. Luckily the bullets had gone straight through so he wouldn’t have to worry about fishing them out before the bullet hole closed in a morbid game of beat the clock with his body. So when he could move again, he took more steps forward, ignoring the bullets that they began pumping into his body. Each hole was reforming itself the second that it was created, the flesh closing up and itching as it stitched itself together. It was less than two minutes before their guns were empty, the click of blank rounds the only sound left in the relative silence of the back room and they sat there, faces ashen and unbelieving.

    “Are you done? Because it’s my turn now.” Deadpool stated, whipping out his katanas and pressing each blade to one of their throats.

    “O-Ok I’ll tell you. Please just don’t kill us.” the one that had originally caved, Timun, squealed, craning his neck as far back as possible.

    “Alright, tell me then. Spit it out before I cut out your tongue.” Deadpool warned, voice all business.

    “We don’t know much: we were hired for the distraction and not much else. But we were hired a week ago for something else, mainly setting up the noise castors. I kept some tabs on him after he hired us, got some dirt on him just in case we’d need it to get out of his plans. I found out that he used to work for Stark and he had a grudge against the head honcho himself. Greisin is trying to perfect genetic engineering so as to overthrow Stark’s robotic solution. Stark will know more about it, I would assume.”

    “Anything else?” Wade tried, tilting his head and pressing the blade a bit harder to the man’s throat.

    Timun shook his head vigorously and swallowed harshly, sweat covering his brow. The information was more than he had hoped for so he was a little bit more optimistic than he had been an hour ago. He would need to call up Weasel to relay that new information, if the man didn’t already know it, to direct the search further. The mercenary pulled his katanas back before promptly slicing both their heads off, relishing in the blood splatter and the drag of the blade as it cut through flesh, sinew, and bone. His muscles flexed joyously and his blades sang with the feeling of drinking up his enemies blood once more. It had been so long since he had gotten to murder and so it was a bit of a rush to be able to take out some of his aggression on them. Their bodies slumped back in their seats, the floor and wall decorated with their insides as their neck stumps squirted fountains of blood that ran down their bodies like a waterfall. Slowly wiping Bea and Arthur against the still clean parts of their shirts, he cleaned the katanas and replaced them into his sheath.

    Leaving the back room and walking back to the bartender, he threw a few hundreds onto the counter and grunted, “Sorry for the mess. I couldn’t help myself.”

    The bartender nodded solemnly and took the money, Wade not even looking back as he exited the establishment and pulled out his phone to dial Weasel’s number, “Hey yeah, I ordered that pizza like forty five minutes ago and it’s yet to arrive.” Wade began in an annoyed voice.

    “Hello Wade.” came the dull response from the other end.

    “Oh come on, nothing? Well I got another name for you. Tony Stark.” Wade began, repeating what he had been told by the bartender, holding the phone between his shoulder and face.

    “I’m way ahead of you. He has a pretty big connection to the man in question and may lead to something more in regards to this guy’s location.” the man on the other end of the line informed the taco-loving merc.

    “I haven’t talked to rust bucket in a while. It’ll be good to do some catching up. Anything else I should know?” Wade asked, kicking around an empty beer can from the side of the road.

    “Other than the fact that Tony might have been tracking Peter for years because he’s an obnoxious, controlling, narcissistic bastard, no, I’m all out of information at the moment.” Weasel chuckled, the sound of him drinking, some sort of soda no doubt, coming through the speaker a moment later.

    “Are you saying Iron Duche may be checking in on Peter like he’s a little kid?” Wade asked, incredulously.

    “Well, back in the day when Spider-Man was born and Peter was a wee lad, Stark gave him that teched-out suit. It had that whole tracking device thing and Peter eventually stopped wearing it because he didn’t like being treated like a kid. He made his own tricked out suit, sans a lot of the cooler features in my opinion, and has been rocking that for a few years. But I went delving into the Avenger’s systems a few months ago just for shits and giggles and found this file named Spider Sensor. From its code, I gather that it’s supposed to connect to various receptors all across the city and send pings from each receptor back to the Avenger’s tower. It’s rigged to sense Spider-Man’s, how should I say this, I guess his genetic frequency, and alert the program of drastic changes in position. It seems Tony didn’t want to give up on knowing if the Spider needed any help or not, except that the program hasn’t been booted up in months. I guess he’s been trying to give Peter space maybe? So there’s a good chance Tony doesn’t know about anything that’s been going on. You should ask around some of the other supers and see if you can’t get into contact with Tony.” Weasel finished, the sound of keys clicking at a furious rate replacing his voice.

    “Got it, thanks pal. I’ll take you out for tacos sometime when this is over.” Wade said, walking down the street towards the bus stop: it was a long way to the avengers tower.

    Except Wade hesitated and then dialed another number, retracting his intent to put away his phone, curious. When Claire’s tired voice came over the receiver, the merc didn’t bother with pleasantries, “You’re still with Matt right? Can you ask him if he knows how to get in touch with Tony Stark?”

     _“Uh, sure. But I’m almost positive Matt flies a little more low to the ground than Iron Man,”_ Claire responded before there was hushed murmuring, _“He says he’s got an emergency contact. The avengers don’t usually pay much attention to the smaller heroes but he’s worked with Cap and Black Widow on a number of occasions so he has a contact.”_

    Claire relayed the number and Wade relegated remembering the number to White since he hated recalling information and then thanked Claire. She murmured something about work and sleep before hanging up.

     **You really should get better about remembering things.** White berated as he recited the phone number when prompted

     **_Remembering things is for chumps._ ** Yellow declared quite suddenly.

     **What’s up with you?** White asked, almost bored sounding.

     **_We didn’t kill neaaaarlly enough people this chapter. I’m so bummed out._ ** Yellow pouted and he would have crossed his arms like a child if he had been able.

    “Yeah, but we did get to kill those stupid assholes so that’s a win. Plus, we will get to murder lots and lots of people when we storm that fucker’s base to reclaim our prince.” Wade responded, typing in the digits that White had recited.

     **Peter won’t approve.** White warned.

     **_When has he ever approved of us un-aliving anyone?_ ** Yellow retorted, rolling his non-existent eyes.

    “Anything in the name of our baby boy.” Wade murmured before the answering of the line distracted him, he had forgot he had pressed call.

     _“Hello? Who is this and how do you have this number?”_ Tony’s irritated voice rumbled over the phone.

    “Morning, rust bucket. I’ve got some questions for you and I will blow up that pretty tower of yours if you don’t come meet me for a bro to bro talk.” the merc responded in a happy tone.

     _“Deadpool,”_ it wasn’t a question, merely a disgruntled and annoyed statement, _“please, it is three in the morning. What can be so fucking important?”_

    Somewhere in the background came a resounding but tired _“language!”_ that had Wade cackling. He had forgotten that Steve had shacked up with Tony a year or two ago after Steve had returned from being a war criminal. They currently had the cutest love hate relationship in marvel, aside from his and Peter’s of course because they _were_ the main characters after all. Papers had been shuffled, Tony had pulled strings to get Steve back in good legal standing after a few years of reconciling through letters, and the Avengers had maintained their title but they had more or less dissolved. The only ones living in the tower then were Stark and Rogers. Each Avenger worked on their own accord now, coming together for world ending catastrophes but that was about it.

     _“Go back to sleep Steve,”_ Tony mumbled behind him before turning back to the phone, _“what is so important, Wade?”_

    “Spider-Man is in trouble, a lot of trouble. Like experimenting on him until he dies trouble. I need some Avenger support.” Wade said, cutting the bullshit.

     _“What’s the short of it?”_ Tony asked, obviously getting up from the bed.

    “You pissed off a genetic scientist who has decided Spider-Man’s DNA is the key to overthrowing your dynasty and creating I guess a new super soldier or something. Actually, I’m not sure on that last part but that’s usually how these things go.” Wade explained, sitting down on a bus stop bench.

     _“Great. Okay, how fast can you get here?”_

“Upstate is a few hours away so in about a few hours.” Wade said, still waiting for the bus that would be showing up any minute.

     _“Not fast enough. I’ll come to you. Should take me half an hour. Go to Peter’s apartment, I may have a way to find him.”_ Tony commanded, mechanical whirring and clicking letting the merc know that he was getting in uniform.

    “I already know about your little tracking thing. Why don’t you do it there?”

     _“I don’t have the chip anymore. I gave it to Peter and had him place it in his laptop because he got so angry with me. I still feel it was unjustified but that doesn’t help us now.”_ Iron Man replied, the more robotic voice replacing Tony’s normal one.

    “Alright, I’ll meet you at Peter’s. We’re about to go save ourselves a Spider!” Wade called before hanging up the phone, jumping up and beginning to run towards the direction he had forced himself to memorize: the way to Peter’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter awkwardly paced? I feel like it was but I needed to get it out lol. Anyway I promise I'm not dead. College sucks, more excuses, blah blah blah.


	7. Decapitation Is An Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Peter doesn't want Wade to do the thing. Wade does the thing.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry for the absence. College is a bitch. Plus I started working, forgive me Spideypool, for I have sinned.)

     Time had passed, it was evident by the changing digits on the clock. Their continual blinking movement promised him that time was indeed pushing forward, that he hadn’t gotten stuck in the timescape to live out his personal hell. After the first night and his outburst, he had been confined to his bed, let up to use the bathroom and eat but that was it. The second his eyes had opened, the goons had been on him like cockroaches. He had been wheeled to a back room turned testing facility after Greisin deemed him cognisant and concussion free.

    They tortured him for what his body felt was no good reason, and for what his mind only barely recognized as a test to see how he would react. The electro-stimulation hurt the most, the metal touching his skin leaving him to cry out in pain with angry, sizzling flesh marks left in the iron’s wake, his nerves fried from the current. They took blood, pints and pints of blood, so much that every time they took from him, he became linens, white and unstable. He was stuck with so many needles that he felt he would overdose with what they gave him and he was sure that it was possible seeing as one of the labels had read Epinephrine. It triggered a wild mania in him and all he could do was writhe in his place, strapped to the table.

    But the tests of strength: those were the worst. Between the drug that accelerated _everything_ and the weakness from the blood loss, it was torture to fight off goons. Peter took down bad guy after bad guy, some without any armor, some in full riot gear. They sent more people at him with every time he succeeded and they wouldn’t stop until he could fight no longer. It was only when he collapsed from their beatings that they let up. The wall crawler didn’t understand the purposes of the tests and his blurred vision, lack of energy, and constant hunger were severely inhibiting his performance. There was never enough food, he was fed infrequently and whatever they did give him lacked any kind of nutrition, unlike the soup the first day, and he could never sleep, no matter how tired he was.

    It couldn’t have been more than three days of the continued treatment but it felt like weeks. Somewhere in his delirium after the last session, at midnight when they had taken him back to his room, they hadn’t tied him up like they had the least two nights. He had taken the opportunity and had spun webs around the entire space to silence the cameras and to send out feelers: he could detect vibrations through the sticky substance if anything happened and to alert him of anyone approaching. After his web weaving was completed he hadn’t even made it to the bed before his legs gave in, the rest of his body’s energy having gone with his webbing. When the floor met his body, he was actually thankful for the cold surface that helped him cool his still stinging flesh down. The webs brought a sense of control and helped him get an hour of sleep somewhere in the six hours he wasn’t being tested upon. The sleep was fitful and disorienting, seeming to drain him further of energy.

    Peter was too tired to acknowledge the sounds coming from the hallway when he began to hear and feel them half an hour past 6am: he couldn’t move any longer regardless. After a few more minutes of nothing occurring and the webs pinging with vibrations continuously, the doors opened, Greisin stepping in with concern radiating through his being. Peter knew the game he was playing and didn’t want anything to do with it: he wouldn’t garner the arachnid’s attention, his care, or his dependence.

    The web slinger ignored the man for a while, staying still as he tried to simply rest. The doctor didn’t move for a while either. Eventually Greisin broke the tense silence with a soft voice, “You’re under stress and I’m very sorry about that. I like the webbing though, I’m glad it makes you comfortable in an otherwise distasteful situation. I didn’t expect such an arachnid-like response so early in our testing, but it’s good that your body knows how a spider should respond to unfavorable stimuli. But we need to remove them soon. The cameras can't make sure you’re okay if they can’t see you.”

    Peter didn’t respond, he had expected as much and decided he didn’t care enough to protest. The webbing was something he had done as an instinct of sort, a protection, he hadn’t expected anything to come from them, as much as he liked the idea of them. His dull hazel eyes didn’t move from where he stared at a small crack in the concrete floor, his mind trying to will it to expand and create a way out for him. He did flinch when the doctor put his hand against his biceps, finding the energy to slap the offending appendage away.

    “Alright, well we are going to let you rest for the day. Try to get some sleep. Your meals will still be on schedule.” the doctor explained before he was straightening and walking out.

    It was a long time before the arachnid tried to move at all, his mind still trying desperately to seek an exit to his predicament. Peter did try to sleep though, despite hating to do anything the doctor suggested, and pulled himself up to the bed an hour later. The linens were too soft against his oversensitive skin and it took him a while to find a nice position, finally finding that laying on his stomach, one arm beneath his pillow and one leg curled up next to his stomach was comfortable enough.

    The lights had dimmed a fair amount, as was per the usual after day one, seeing as Peter couldn’t sleep with lights in his face. Try as he might, there was no helping it and he could not seem to find rest. Peter found himself keenly aware that he was missing something, well more precisely _someone_ , to help him to sleep. Everytime he had tried to fall asleep around Deadpool, he had been able to. Something about the man’s presence, his adoration, and his protection made the arachnid feel safe in a way he only remembered feeling when he was held by Aunt May and Uncle Ben as a little kid. The pang of loss hurt his heart more than his side and it confused him. Deadpool wasn’t his to begin with and he had never lost the man. But something in him pinned nonetheless and his confusion mounted. Maybe he was just not thinking straight. He had been awake for nearly three consecutive days.

    Eventually he let his mind go blank, instead focusing on a game plan: this sitting around and waiting to be saved gig was growing old quickly. As much as he found himself wanting to see the merc with a mouth, he owed it to himself, to Spider-Man, to try to escape on his own. But forming cohesive thoughts was hard, even harder trying to form a plan of action. The arachnid committed the details of his surroundings to memory as best as he could, trying to dredge up other useful information.

    He had not been exposed to much of the facility. Between his journey down the hall to the back testing room and his journey to his room, he had only glimpsed other hallways, some leading to large, open spaces, and others leading to dead ends. It was a gamble as to if any of them lead outside. He reasoned that one of the large open rooms were likely bets but he had doubts.

    As expected, men came in a few hours later, pulling off the webbing from the walls. It was joyful to watch them struggle against his nigh unbreakable strings, even more fun to watch them get stuck to it. It was a while before they managed to disentangle themselves from the substance, even longer before they managed to clear it all out. When the web was removed, Peter tried to curl up in his bed, ignoring the stitching in his side: the nanobots were unable to do much for him in terms of the wound but the doctor had stitched Peter up, applying generous medication and some sort of shot to cure the toxin that had initially spread from the bullet. With his healing factor restored, the wound was all but disappearing each day. It was more bearable now that it wasn’t bleeding or infected like it had been the first day but the wound still stung if he moved the wrong way. In a day or two he would be healed completely but Peter didn’t want to wait that long.

    As much as he wanted to rest, he knew there was no hope in the endeavor. So he instead spent the day coming up with his plan of escape, healing his body, and pretended not to wish Wade would just come save him. His eyes never left the clock above his head and he stared for what were many agonizing hours, long into the night and into the morning when he heard the first signs of commotion. He was done waiting. It was time for action.

~~~

    “Glad to see his tastes haven’t improved since I’ve been here.” the condescending voice sneered from the doorway, the suit pulling back from the face as he walked in from the front door, having been let in by Deadpool, who had picked the lock same as before.

    “I’m sure he would have the coolest furniture if he had the money. He hardly eats and he doesn’t have heating, apparently. And you’ve been letting him suffer.” Deadpool didn’t even bother saying hello to the man, much more concerned with Iron Man’s disrespect of Peter’s home, despite his own misgivings the first time he’d been there.

    “Believe me, I’ve tried to give him money. He won't have it, no matter how many times I offer. I’ve even suggested he come live with Steve and I.” the rust bucket responded, already making his way towards the bed where Peter’s backpack rested.

    “Yeah, I’ve discovered that he doesn’t like taking help if he doesn’t absolutely need it.” Deadpool explained, walking over to the bed along with Tony.

    “Well today he’s getting it, whether he likes it or not.” Iron Man responded, pulling out Peter's laptop and plugging his suit into it as he opened the screen.

    “There’s an innuendo there: plugging yourself into Peter’s device.” Deadpool snickered, gaining an annoyed glance from the other man.

    “I’ve got to give it to Peter, he really knows how to encode his stuff. If I weren’t perfect, this would have taken days to crack.” Iron Man muttered, his fingers whirring over the keys as a black screen was replaced with green coding.

     **_Someone’s full of himself. Maybe we should just give this guy an award for being the biggest asshole._ ** Yellow hissed, his anger pricked.

     **This is Iron Man. Did you forget who we were talking to?** White inquired in a mocking tone.

     **_No, I just still don’t appreciate it. I remember now why we go out of our way to annoy him._ ** Yellow stated with a bit of annoyance.

    Wade blinked but didn’t comment, instead staring at the screen as numbers and letters flashed, none of them making much sense to the anti-hero. The man could hardly think of something witty to say before Tony had the computer unlocked. The billionaire only smirked as he pulled up the chip that was already installed into the computer and brought it to life. As if obeying its overlord, the screen flashed and complied with every keystroke Tony made before a map of the city was pulled up, grid lines overtop the image.

    “The system works in an overarching mesh so this will take a while. In the meantime, let’s talk about this man that has Peter. What’s his name?” Tony asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as he let the computer do the work.

    “Dr. Greisin is his name. Supposedly worked for you but got some sort of grudge going, I know, it's a shocker that anyone wouldn’t _love_ your personality,” Tony rolled his eyes but Wade continued, “my sources say he’s been plotting a way to topple you and that somehow translated to him needing Spider-Man. That last part is what I’m not clear on.”

    “I barely remember his name. He was experimenting on genetic gene therapy, kind of along the lines of what the people who gave you powers were doing. I didn’t think it wise so I scrapped his work but I didn’t fire him. I told him to reroute his efforts into disease research or something that didn’t involve genetic modifications on his previous scale. He quit not long after but I didn’t get an I’ll-be-back-for-revenge vibe from him. But why he’d jump to Peter as a source of biological enhancement, that I don’t know. If he’s just going for regenerative properties and strength then you would have been the better target.” Tony explained, his eyebrows knitting together.

     **_Sounds really complicated._ ** Yellow said in obvious confusion.

 **No, you just don’t understand it.** White retorted.

    “Maybe Peter’s genes are more important than we thought?” Wade suggested, flopping down on the bed, Tony glaring at him as he steadied the laptop so it wouldn't fly off.

    “It’s probably more like a factor in his genome. You know it’s probably his spider sense. Being able to mostly predict an opponent’s moves by micro fluctuations in temperature, sound, vibrations, wind flow, and altitude is an amazing gift. Maybe the doctor wants that aspect most.” Tony mused, nodding to himself.

    “Wait, that’s how it works?” Wade asked in confusion.

    “Well yeah, what did you think, he actually saw the future?” Tony smirked at Deadpool, a chuckle ringing from his vocal chords.

     **_I don't like his attitude._ ** Yellow grumbled.

     **He isn’t Tony Snark for nothing.** White chimed in, amused.

    Bringing his arm up, Tony pressed a multitude of buttons before a hologram of a string of DNA projected from his wrist, “This is one part of Peter’s genetic sequence, the part I’ve been interested in for a while. Perhaps this doctor saw something he shouldn't have in regards to my research with Spider-Man and sparked this mess.”

    “That’s weird. People don’t just keep holograms of their friends' DNA sequences on hand.” Wade explained, feeling out of his element in calling someone else off their rocker.

    “This coming from you? Well whatever, I don’t expect you to understand. Science is complicated and usually involves questionable morals. Except when it comes to Peter. The kid will hardly experiment on mice, I swear.” Tony grumbled before plopping down on the sofa.

    “You’re not going to check the thingy?” Wade asked, pointing to the laptop.

    “That’s going to take a while. Better to conserve your energy now.” Tony said, already laying his head back.

    “Wait, wait, wait, how long?” Wade asked, skepticism and anger barely withheld.

    “Could be hours, could be days. We’re waiting for a ping to go off, that is, if he’s still even in the city. Unless you’ve got any bright ideas, I’m going to wait for my technology to do what I programmed it to do.”

     **_Are you fucking kidding me?! He expects us to sit here and wait for that stupid machine to find Peter? And what if he is indeed out of state? We would be wasting all our time just standing here._ ** Yellow gasped out his indignation.

     **For once, I am tempted to agree with you. It will be much more efficient for us to continue looking up information regarding what else the doctor may be hiding. If we can find out more of his career, then we will better be able to take him on without getting Peter caught in the crossfire. And we’ve found people within days at times so I believe we will be able to find him.** White responded, noting sections of the city they had already explored.

    “Sorry but I’m going to go look for him. Call me if the machine finds him, alright?” Wade said, already stepping out the window to the fire escape.

    “Don’t waste all your energy Dead, you’ll need it sooner or later.” Tony called but made no move to stop the mercenary, much to Wade’s appreciation.

    “Just call Steve and take care of your business. You need to devote all of yourself to Peter right now.” the merc called back.

    “When did you become my boss, happy pants?” Iron Man called but Wade was already jumping down the six flights to the ground.

    He broke his fall by catching a lamp post and swinging into a flip before his full weight could snap his arm. It was a move Peter had taught him, one he had begged Spider-Man to teach him. The day he had, Wade had continually utilized the move, even putting his own spin on it, literally. He liked to stick the landing after a nice pirouette in the sky.

     **_Style points, for sure._ ** Yellow mused.

     **Not the time.** White explained, still trying to assess all their collective knowledge, which, to his dismay, was inadequate for any proper conclusions.

    “Time to do some digging.” Wade muttered to himself after lopping off into the belly of the city.

    It was a long night of knocking together heads, of chasing hoodlums in streets, of visiting scientific research facilities, and overall of fruitless, wasted effort. Wade had returned to Peter’s apartment with nothing to show for his hard work and Iron Man had laughed at his despondent mood. Wade had slept if only to get his energy back up and the laptop popped out a few false signals until the merc was ready to destroy the piece of technology. He was dissuaded by the act, fortunately for Peter, by White and Tony, who reasoned that there was no need for the violence and that it would be hurting their chances of finding Peter.

    So he had consented himself to the two more days of false signals and silence. He had gone somewhat stir crazy, resorting to snooping around Peter’s small apartment. It had only taken him a few hours to comb through all the boy owned, which displeased Wade greatly. Deadpool even paid for the rent for six months in advance when the owner came knocking. Wade decided that the man was very homely and caring, someone he was happy that Peter had in his life. Even Yellow seemed oddly satisfied with the encounter.

    It was the dawn of the third day when the laptop went absolutely bonkers, it’s alarm stirring Wade from where his body was thrown over the back of the couch. It had the merc falling ungracefully to the floor before rolling into a defensive posture, blades drawn. Tony was groggily walking to the laptop and clicking buttons, mulling over the signal as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. It was early, like way too early on whatever fucking day it was: Wade had stopped keeping track.

    “Oh, hey this actually might be real. The signature was from an hour ago. We should go now.” Tony mumbled as he went over to the small cube that was his suit, which he had put away on the first day when it had become apparent that he would not be needing it until the sensor found something.

    “Seriously, where is it saying Peter is?” Wade was already in front of the laptop, trying to make sense of the coding and map.

    “In an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the city, the outskirts,” Tony was in suit, his thrusters humming as he prepared for takeoff, “feel like cracking some skulls?”

    “Is that even a question tin man?” Deadpool asked, cracking his neck as he smiled visibly beneath his mask.

    “Yeah well, we best start stepping, shouldn’t we? I’ll carry you but you better not make it difficult.” Iron Man explained, gesturing them to the window and the fire escape.

    “Me? Make things difficult? Why, I’d _never,_ ” Wade exclaimed, sounding offended as he followed, not able to say anything else before he was scooped up by his sides and propelled forward along with the rust bucket, “hey, hey, hey take it easy, you’re hands are freezing.”

    “I am in a suit of armor, after all, Wade.” the man sighed, already seemingly exasperated with Deadpool’s presence.

    “Are we there yet?” Wade asked in a childlike voice, his legs swinging in the air.

    “Don’t you start this shit. I will drop you.” Iron Man threatened, loosening his grip as a show.

    “Fine, fine…. But seriously are we there yet?”

    “No, we are not there yet. It’s going to take me a few more minutes.” Tony sighed.

     **Are you trying to annoy the only man helping us save Peter right now? Because that’s really stupid.** White questioned with all the ardor he could muster.

     **_But messing with Iron Man is great. Look, even if he drops us it’s not like we will die._**  Yellow pointed out.

    “Yeah but then we wouldn’t be able to save Peter if we were busy stitching our body back together.” Deadpool pointed out, earning no response from the man carrying him, to Tony’s credit.

    They flew in silence after that, both heros trying to prepare for the inevitable fight before them. The wind that blew into the merc’s face stung but was a welcome reminder and helped to focus him into the combatant he would need to call upon to save Peter. It wasn’t long before the old warehouse was in sight and Tony dropped them to the ground, providing cover as he scoped the place out.

    “There are lots of windows and entrances, I say we send out my drones and choose a separate location to enter from while the drones distract. Maybe we could-” Iron Man had been talking, Wade knew that but he was already walking up to the nearest entrance, Tony’s voice drowning out slowly behind him.

    He could tell the moment Tony figured out Deadpool was not beside him anymore when the man cursed loudly. Wade didn’t have time to make plans. Every second he was out there, Peter was potentially suffering and that _was not okay_. So the door nearest him was exactly where he went, his swords unsheathed, feeling heavy in a familiar way as the first man appeared from the underbelly of the beast.

    The goon was dispatched before there was a moment for him to even raise the gun at his side. It was a strain of muscle and sinew as Wade’s blade cut through the offending man’s neck: vocal cords, spinal cord, and esophagus. Flesh gave way but bone resisted, forcing the merc to push a little harder, the tensions in his body being rewarded with the satisfying pop of the head detaching at the shoulders. A wet, gurgling sound of body and head hitting the floor made for a perfect coalescence of his effort.

     **_Oh, how we fucking missed this._ ** Yellow sang, thrills running from him to Wade.

     **Just focus on our task, we can’t enjoy this too much. But it is nice to blow off steam.** White reminded them, though not harshly.

    Before anything else could be said, the next patrol officer came walking by, his eyes widening in sickened horror as he held up the gun in his arms. Deadpool was quick to chuck his sword out, sticking the other in the chest. He coughed up some blood and went down, gun let go and useless in his last moments. Wade retrieved the sword and flicked off the extra blood, stalking deeper into the warehouse, Iron Man forgotten. The next few patrols were dispatched similarly, mostly with quick jabs to the heart. After three sets of three men, each not answering any of his shouted questions, he decided to take a different approach. The patrol that rounded a stack of wood was caught off guard with disemboweled stomachs, Bea and Arthur digging and swirling their intestines like spaghetti as the red entrails fell to the ground in a splash. It was always interesting to see a person realize their entire frontal cavity was lying on the ground before them, realize they were three seconds from death, and then crumple in on themselves. Wade could tell a lot about a person based on the face they made before they died. But he didn’t dwell on the two that fell dead, his swords piercing true, leaving one man alive, who he leaned over menacingly.

    “Where’s Peter?” his voice was tense, not whimsical like it would usually be in dealing with criminals.

    “I-I don’t know. I was told to just guard the facility.” the man stuttered, a small puddle spreading from him as he saw the blades Wade sported.

     **_Did he just get so scared that he wet himself?_ ** Yellow asked skeptically.

     **It does appear so.** White stated cautiously.

     **_Causing grown men to piss themselves… are we into that?_ ** Yellow asked, incredulously.

     **This is soooo not the fic for that.** White responded quickly.

     **_Why can’t it be? I mean like we’re going to get kinky with Peter later, right? It’s practically preordained._ ** Yellow defended cheekily.

    White was silent but his outrage was felt and Wade didn’t pause to deliberate their conversation. He simply used both swords to decapitate the man, swallowing down the urge to throw some sort of tantrum. He was getting nowhere and Tony was absent from the fun little games, but also absent in the search for Peter.

    It wasn’t until he began searching for Iron Man did he find small signs of the Avenger. There were slight burn marks on the ground from his thrusters, a few badly concealed, unconscious men in his wake. Wade followed the trail and finally caught up to the rust bucket, watching as he shot a small blast at another foe, rendering him flat on the ground amid wooden pallets and canvas coverings.

    “Nice work Tin Man, but where are we supposed to find Peter? I can’t seem to find any secret rooms.” the merc asked, causing Tony to jump and whirl, palms raised.

    “Good god, don’t do that. Between you disappearing and popping back up, I’m not sure who I am hitting or not. Though I’d probably enjoy laying your ass out for a bit.” Tony growled out, obviously grumpy.

    “Awww, is Mr. Billionaire-playboy-philanthropist upset? Don’t worry, you’ll get your beauty sleep. _After_ we find Peter,” Wade explained before pausing a second, “yooohoooo, has anyone seen a lean, brown haired, hazel eyed, college student with the most amazing ass you’ve _ever_ laid your eyes on?” Wade asked in the loudest voice he could manage, cupping his hands over his mouth for effect.

    “Wade, the fuck?!” Iron Man spat, getting ready to fight whoever responded.

    “Don’t worry I got this.” Deadpool assured Tony, listening for a moment as he quieted them both.

    Steps resounded from somewhere to their left and Wade made a beeline for the source, finding a large squad of men pouring out of a rather well concealed door towards the back of the facility. Wade gestured in pride as he strode over to the door, the men taking aim. It was a reflex to draw the glock at his calf, aiming the weapon and taking out one after the other, each bullet finding home. When all fifteen rounds had been spent, Wade took on the confused and frightened remainder with Bea and Arthur. The goons that were still alive then understood what had happened and began peppering him with their own bullets. It only minorly inconvenienced the merc as he strode forward, each sting of a bullet causing him to pause as his blood dripped down his suit. The pain was something he was used to, it would not phase him. Each step resounded threateningly against the concrete floor and when their guns began clicking from the lack of projectiles, their eyes went wide in a fear only death herself could cause.

    Wade didn’t take his time, not like he wanted to. No, his blade found their necks and cut through like a razor to hair. Each katana found a mark and their heads rolled a few feet from the bodies that had not yet dropped. Their blood created a comical fountain that poured like an avalanche coming down a mountain.

     ** _I like that song_** , Yellow commented, contented with their line of action as he watched the bodies hit the floor, **_ohhh and that song too._**

 **** **You’re hopeless.** White sighed, trying to assess the damage.

    “I mean we could probably play this to my own theme song, you know.” Wade explained as he flicked the blood from the weapons, cleaning the steel.

    “Peter isn’t going to like hearing that you killed all these people. How are you going to explain it to him?” Iron Man asked, standing in his judgemental, hero pose.

    “I don’t need your holier than thou lecture, Mr. I Killed Mallen.” Deadpool quipped, smirking at the Avenger.

    “We really going to go there?” Tony asked in a tired voice.

    Wade ignored the man, pulling away the dropcloth that hid the entrance and flinging the door open after picking his way through the bodies, their blood painting the floor and making it slippery. Iron Man hovered above the corpses, making a slight noise of disgust. The pair made their way down the surprisingly empty halls, turning bare corners and coming across winding and branching paths. It was a gamble as to which way lead to Peter and Wade knew they didn’t have a lot of time since they would be trying to move the spider since they undoubtedly knew the duo was here to save him.

    “Now will you let me use my little toys? It would help locate Peter faster.” Tony explained, little drones popping out from the back of his suit.

    Each small piece of technology broke off and began going down separate halls, all four zooming away and then returning. When they replaced themselves on Iron Man, he directed Wade to one of the halls, coming to a long row of doors.

    “Which one is he in?” Wade asked, throwing open doors as he asked.

    “Not sure if he is even over here, my other drones just found dead ends so this was a likely place to look. I guess just start opening them all and we may find him.” Tony suggested, opening doors as well.

    “This is all oddly convenient, there has to be a catch somewhere.” Wade explained, still opening doors.

     **_Well the author has been having trouble with this section. Maybe she’s just going to give us an easy time of this._ ** Yellow suggested.

     **I highly doubt it. It’s probably more like-**

    White didn’t get to finish his thought as a very scared looking, heavily beaten man fell into the corridor at the end of it. The man had his hands over his face, his white lab coat splattered with blood, turning parts a deep red and others a smattering of pink. It would have been something like a sakura tree painting had the scent of copper and the obvious distress from the man hadn’t said otherwise. His body curled up as tight as possible and his voice stumbled from his throat in hurried, pleading syllables.

    “Please, no. Listen, Peter, we can talk about this. The continuation of science is important. If I could just keep studying you, I’d be able to cure things like cancer, make super soldiers that wouldn’t die nearly as easily. I could help so many people. You’d be selfish not to aid me in this goal.” the man begged, his hands coming away from his face to reveal Dr. Greisin.

    A second later and a lean, sickly looking Peter walked out from around the corner and snarled down at the man, giving him a quick punch in the face, the popping audible, “I may have helped you if you hadn’t kidnapped me, if you hadn’t sent villains for me to have to fight, if you had _respected_ me. But I’m sure you’ll find a way to do some good from the other side of a jail cell.” the spider left the limp man where he was lying, turning in surprise.

    An embarrassed heat grew from the college student’s face, pulling the obviously tattered and stretched shirt over his bruised, battered, and broken body. The clothes were the same ones he had been wearing the day he was taken and Wade could smell the boy from where he stood, locked into place. But the fire and determination, it was still in his baby boy’s eyes, something Wade never thought he’d be so worried about. They hadn’t broken his spider, they may have shaken him, but they had not made him crumble.

    “You look pretty bad, Peter. You shouldn’t be moving around so recklessly ” Tony’s sharp voice and usual sarcastic bite were absent in his words as he began walking towards the obviously exhausted young man.

    “Yeah, I’m definitely feeling the pain. But hey, I had to do something, I got tired of waiting.” Peter attempted humor but his voice broke and he flinched, obviously not having wanted to betray that weakness.

     **_We are allowed to kill Greisin right? Surely Petey wouldn’t object._ ** Yellow asked calmly and quietly, the threat in his voice all too real and familiar.

    White was surprisingly quiet, his presence subdued as Wade walked forward, his first concern with making sure Peter was okay, even though he _knew_ the arachnid was far from okay. Peter stood there, his confidence having taken a hit with the deterioration of his muscles and general malnutrition, and Wade put a hand to the stitching that was looking remarkably better than the last time he had seen the young man. To Peter’s credit, he did not flinch from the touch but he surprised the mercenary by throwing his arms around Wade’s neck in a hug.

    Deadpool froze, his mind trying to come up with a plan of action, of what he should do and what he shouldn’t. He settled on continuing to stand still as Peter clung to him. The arachnid eventually understood that Wade was somewhat shell shocked and immediately removed his body from the merc’s.

    “Ah,” Peter’s voice stuttered and he blanched, worry on his face as he tried to backpedal the moment, “sorry, I just thought. Well, I don’t know what I thought.”

    “Baby boy, you did nothing wrong. I was just surprised is all.” Wade explained as Peter seemed to settle, his eyes an odd combination of melancholy, relief, and dejection.

    “Thank you for coming to get me. I thought I was going to have to fight my way past everyone. You even enlisted Tony?” Peter quipped as Tony walked up and the two men stood there for a second before Iron Man’s face mask pulled back and he yanked Peter into an obviously awkward hug.

    “I would appreciate not having to worry about you for three days nonstop… Come to my tower, I’ll have Jarvis scan you and make sure you’re healthy. Reverse some of the damage. Yes, I will inform Aunt May of what’s happening.” Tony said, holding Peter at an arm's length and looking with slight worry up and down the youth.

    “Actually, I just really want to go home. I want to go see Aunt May and try to recover a bit of my life. I’ve got to get back to work and college. I need some normalcy. I promise to come up to the tower in a few days, after I’ve reassembled myself.” Peter explained.

    “But you’re still basically dying, Petey. You can’t force your body to keep going. You need a few days of rest.” Tony said in worry.

    “I mean I can’t keep pushing off my responsibilities. You’re basically paying for my college and I can’t let that go to waste.” the arachnid tried, his eyes dejected.

    “Okay, we can talk about this later. For now, we should probably get out of here.” Tony relented, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation as long as Peter seemed in danger of falling over from the slightest of breezes.

    The pair started walking back the way they came but Wade stood there, staring down at the unconscious doctor. His very existence was insulting, the fact that he was even still breathing offended the mercenary. Wade was about to unsheathe his katanas and just remove the life from the man’s chest when a hand fell on his left shoulder. His baby boy, all determined and threatening, stood behind him with a warning in his expression. The merc narrowed his eyes at the challenge but he knew what the spider was going to say before he said it.

    “Don’t. Don’t say that his life has any value. He’s hurt so many just trying to get to you, the villains he sent out, they _killed_ people to get to you. He experimented on you like you were an _animal._  I’m sorry but some people deserve to die, even if they don’t deserve the peace of death." Wade barked and withdrew his sword.

    “Wade, no. We have been over this a thousand times. You can not play judge, jury, and executioner for a man you think deserves death.”

    “What’s the difference between me killing him, and a jury sentencing him to death? Because his crimes are extensive enough: believe me, I’ve checked. At least if I get to, I will get some satisfaction, some closure to this.” Wade retorted, his body tensed.

    “You think I like him any more than you? I’d love to see him suffer for his misdeeds. But I don’t get to make that call. Neither do you.” Peter shouted, obviously losing his cool.

    “That’s where you’re wrong.” Wade stated simply before he walked over to Greisin, Peter a second too late to stop the mercenary from plowing the katana straight into the doctor’s heart.

    The broken gurgling sound that emanated from the doctor’s throat as his body convulsed was accompanied by the sharp intake of air from Peter and an audible breaking of something deep within the arachnid. All at once, Wade regretted the action, even as his sword drove deeper and twisted in flesh. He couldn’t even say anything to the doctor as he died, not a ‘this is what you get for hurting Peter’ and not a ‘say hello to death for me, will you.’ It was not satisfying in the least.

    But that didn’t stop the blood from pouring out of the hole in the doctor’s chest, didn’t stop the convulsions of his death throes, and didn’t stop the horrid gasping sounds of life fading from a body. When the man was all but dead, Peter finally moved, but not towards Wade. Instead, the arachnid turned around and started walking towards the direction they had come from. Seeing Peter walk away, seeing a cold and impersonal back facing him, that stung somewhere in Wade’s chest. The spider hadn’t said anything, hadn’t blown up in his face about responsibility and the law. He simply walked away. It hurt more than the anger did.

    “I thought you were smarter than that, Wade.” Tony said before he too followed behind Peter, their forms disappearing.

     **_Well… That could have gone better._ **

**** **We never learn, do we?**

    The voices felt remorse, so he had obviously done something _very_ wrong. His mistakes didn’t bother Wade, he never cared about the people he hurt or disappointed. But watching his baby boy walk away without saying anything, that made him ponder on whether the congealing blood of Greisin had been worth it. He suspected it had not been.

    “He shouldn’t react so much. It’s just a little killing. I mean he should be grateful that I avenged him, right?” Wade tried in vain to excuse his behavior.

     **_Methinks the lady doth protest too much._ ** Yellow mused, shaking his head at Wade.

 **** **A sorry sight man is.** White agreed, disappointment in his voice.

“When did you guys get savvy in Shakespeare?” Wade asked dejectedly as he removed Bea from the doctor’s chest.

     **Ever since you started fucking up often enough to warrant it.**

    “So… always?”

     **_Pretty much._ **

**** **I’d say that’s about right.**

    The mercenary sighed and began picking his way out of the warehouse, resigning himself to a hard few days ahead of him with his baby boy.


	8. Lovingly In Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter does some soul searching, Wade gives him time to cool off. Both get a push in the right direction (it's towards each other, by the way).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So here ya go, sorry again for the delay. I got no excuses this time >.> I love you all though so that counts for something right? Happy Thanksgiving ^_^
> 
> ALSO WARNING: DEPICTION/MENTION OF PEDOPHILIA.))

    Peter stomped angrily out of the building, ignoring his wounds, his fatigue, and his general feeling of nausea. His sneakers skidded on the pavement, his clothes fluttered around him in tattered remnants, and his mind struggled to keep up with his heart. It wasn’t like Wade’s actions were new: this was just something that happened a lot. The mercenary didn’t know how to respect human life and so the loss of it usually accompanied any job the taco-loving man undertook. But this hadn’t been a job. Peter had sat there and asked Wade not to. But the man had ignored his pleadings, it mattered more to him that he get his vengeance than how Peter would feel. So his heart felt broken, his mind tried to reason, and his body crumpled under the warring sides.

    “Should I take you home now?” Tony interrupted his inner dialogue and gestured towards the general direction of Peter’s apartment.

    “Yeah, I’d appreciate that.” the arachnid confessed sullenly, eyes downcast.

    Tony picked up Peter in a gentle movement, bridal style, because of course he would, “Alright, m’lady.”

    “Not in the mood.”

    “Well, I mean, it’s not like it wasn't expected. We’re talking about Deadpool here. That’s his thing right?” Iron Man explained, as if Peter didn’t already know, taking off into the early morning sky.

    “But he was working on it with me. He’s never deliberately killed someone right in front of me before, maybe behind my back, literally, but not while I was watching, as if to spite me.” Peter grumbled, getting angrier and angrier as he replayed the moment.

    “You know he did it for you, not to spite you.” Tony tried as they flew over the city, sun greeting them slowly.

     Despite his bad mood, feeling the sun on his skin again after its absence was like taking that first sip of water after hiking through a desert. As much as he wanted to stretch and soak up more of that Vitamin D, he didn’t want to offset Tony’s aerodynamics anymore than he already was. But he got to enjoy the view, which was the next best thing: the golds, purples, and pinks of the clouds bled together in a mosaic of life. It was ironic, the beauty of such scenery was marred by death.

    The pair was silent for the duration of the flight, the city Peter had grown up in passing in the blink of an eye. When Tony touched down on Peter’s fire escape, he didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead he placed a hand on the arachnid’s head and sighed, “You should have called me the second that happened.” he gestured to the stitched gunshot wound.

    “Sorry, I just didn’t want to worry you or distract from your work.” Peter tried lamely, his shoulders meeting his ears in an apologetic shrug.

    “That’s a lame excuse. Next time, just tell me. That way I don’t have to track you down across the entire city for half a week,” the man said before he ducked into the spider’s apartment, walking straight to the laptop, “just have to disable the chip. Wade found out about my program and asked me to use it.”

    “I’m not mad, I don’t know if I could have fought my way out of that so I’m thankful you saved me.” Peter was quick to reply.

    “You were just so against it before that I’d thought you’d be angry about it.” Tony sad matter of factly as he popped the chip out of the laptop, his fingers rolling over the keyboards in familiar, practiced ease.

    “I can’t exactly say anything after you rescued me, now can I? You should keep it, just in case.” Peter countered, leaning against the wall as the other turned to leave.

    “Yeah, will do... Well I best be going. Let me know if you need anything alright,” the man returned to the other side of the window and lifted off the fire escape, hesitating, “I’ll take you out to lunch this week. I’m going to call to check up on you too, Steve will probably want to talk to you and make sure you are okay.”

    “Yeah, sounds good. Wait, Tony! I forgot to mention this since I got… distracted. Greisin used nanotechnology to keep me in check. I managed to push through it but I think it damaged my nervous system and they are still in my body.” Peter managed to say, causing Tony to float back down and pull back the face mask.

    “Well, that’s to be expected, honestly. He was a forefront on that project when I still employed him. Don’t worry, when Wade called, I had a code loaded into the suit, remembering the bastard liked the nano tech the most. Thank god I'm so smart. This should disrupt his signal to the bots and then they will decay and pass naturally out of your body. At least that’s how they were designed. Let me give you a scan.”

    Tony held up his arm and a small blue light proceeded to slowly drag itself over his body twice, Jarvis running diagnostics, _“Mr. Parker’s body is infested with a hundred and twenty nanobots. I am able to neutralize all of them via a disrupting frequency and I believe that they will all pass through his system and decay naturally without further damage. Unfortunately, his nerve endings have indeed been damaged. However his altered DNA is healing them at a commensive rate so I believe he will recover completely.”_

    “Thank you Jarvis, please carry out the diagnostic.” Tony said, smirking down at Peter in the way that the arachnid had learned signaled comfort and care instead of the pompousness that it resembled.

     _“Yes sir.”_

    The beam turned into a pinpoint and swiped from his center to all this extremities in a crisscross fashion until it had seemingly covered every inch of his body. Each time the beam held its place on his body, there was a slight pulse in the light and a tingling feeling. It was a long process and by the time Jarvis was finished, Peter felt drained and in need of a nap, or at least the ability to sit down. Tony seemed tired too, but his was more likely due to the nights searching and fighting his way through Greisin’s stronghold.

    Peter smiled and nodded his thanks, “I wish I could sleep this off.”

    “Still have insomnia? You should get that checked out, kid. It’s not good for your health. But I better go, Cap probably has breakfast cooking. Take some sleeping pills if you can. I think your body will forgive you this once.” Tony said as he took off from the fire escape, Peter watching Iron Man rocket into the morning sky.

    Once he was alone, the arachnid let his body crumple onto the bed. His energy was sufficiently sapped and he felt properly cowed after such a long time away from his home. The apartment was so much more impressive after having spent so much time in that dungeon-like place. The sheets were welcoming and he curled up easily into the familiar sleeping position. But, as usual, sleep defied him and his torn and battered psyche refused to rest. It was too early to sleep anyway, Peter tried to reason with himself. Perhaps a small walk around his apartment to tidy up and take account of things would help lull him to a more sleep ready condition.

    So the youth stood, despite his body’s harsh protest, and hobbled more than walked about the small space. He noticed that there was a suit cover folded on the couch and Peter unzipped the black plastic in curiosity to reveal his Spider-Man suit. It was fixed, the bullet hole no longer marring the fabric and a note fell from the opening as he pulled the suit out. Picking it up quizzically, the arachnid blew threw the horridly scrawled handwriting and chuckled to himself: Tony never could write legibly. Tony must have repaired his suit during the time of Peter’s absence, they had been using his apartment as a home base of sorts so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Peter ran over the words again and made a mental note to thank the billionaire for the comical sentences he’d left behind: _"_ _Retrieved from Deadpool’s apartment. Oh. My. God. Talk about horror and uncleanliness. Anyway, try not to get any more holes in this suit, I don’t like finding half dead spiders, or really any spiders… just try not to die.”_

    Placing the suit underneath his bed for safekeeping, he continued to scour the space, noting that there was actually food stocked inside the fridge, along with another note. This one read in a much more odd scrawl that Peter had never seen before: _“You didn’t have any food. Iron Douche and I went to the store to get some stuff. You can keep what’s left.”_ There was a twinge of something in his chest that hurt as much as it soothed. The arachnid still didn’t know if he was ready to forgive Deadpool or not, but there was a very large part of him that liked being cared for by the merc, that liked the attention, that _missed_ the assassin. It would also help if Wade were there to help get Peter to sleep: yes he had realized he slept better with the crazy merc around and he was willing to admit it then. But the ache was accompanied by a stabbing pain of betrayal, of questioning, and of guilty _satisfaction._  He couldn’t admit that a part of him felt justice when the doctor bleed out on the floor, that was just not Spider-Man. Spider-Man didn’t enjoy killing, didn’t enjoy his enemies dying. But Peter _had,_ he had felt avenged from all the wrong that had been done to him, he had felt a sickening anger release from his body when Greisin drew his last breath.

    Peter had to sit on the couch, fridge closed and forgotten, to hang his head in shame and reflect on who those actions had come from: himself or from Spider-Man. Was Wade rubbing off on him more than he had originally thought? He needed another opinion and he needed it now, regardless of his exhaustion or preparedness. He needed to go see Aunt May.

    So he stood and was going to throw some clothes in his backpack before discovering the clothes he had originally packed from three days ago. Shouldering the pre-packed bag and throwing in his gauze, wallet, and keys, Peter exited the apartment, locking the door behind him, and pulled out the phone he had picked up on the way out. He dialed the familiar number after a few breaths to steady himself and prepared for the worst as he rode the elevator down. The phone rang longer than he had thought his aunt would let it, but eventually her quaking voice did answer.

     _“Peter?”_ she asked in a voice that seemed tired and unsure.

    “Hey Aunt May… Listen, I’m finally coming home.” his voice shook a bit as he tried to stop from buckling under the immense sadness he heard in her voice.

     _“Mr. Stark filled me in dear, don’t worry. He called two days ago, said that you were in intensive care due to the nature of your injuries. Told me he was personally overseeing your well being since he was missing his favorite intellectual. He paid all the medical bills and said you’d call when you woke up.”_ her voice came out in tumbles.

    “Yes, of course. He explained much the same to me too… Hey, I’m on the way over now. Is that okay? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” Peter asked, his footsteps bringing him past the front desk and out onto the streets where he threw his hand out to hail a cab.

     _“Of course you can come, Peter. You know you never have to ask me for something like that. I’ll make some hot tea and some breakfast.”_ her light voice assured, sounding like she was just getting out of bed and throwing clothes on.

    “Alright, I will see you when I’m there then.” Peter said before he let the phone call drop as a cab pulled up, giving the taxi driver the address.

    The drive was familiar and comforting, and he was glad he had decided to get a cab: he didn’t think he could have biked there with how weak he felt. Even the driver could see how sickly Peter was, trying to ask him if he would rather go to the hospital. But the arachnid shrugged off the suggestion politely as he laid back and waited. The youth could still feel the worried glances that the driver kept giving him but he couldn’t be bothered to assuage the man’s worry.

    The city blurred by, the landscape akin to an abstract painting more than buildings, people, or concrete. He didn’t want to slip into the warmth of the taxi, didn't want his mind to fade into a hushed existence, but he was tired. He would have actually fallen asleep had the taxi not pulled over in front of a very familiar place and explained the amount Peter owed. The youth was quick to stand out of the taxi and pull the last few bills he had in his wallet to pay the man, sighing when it was just a little over what he needed. The taxi gave him his change and then was pulling off down the road.

    Peter stood for only a moment in front of the house he had grown up in, trying to figure out what he could and couldn't say. To what extent Tony had already explained. Aunt may knew a lot about Peter, had gotten really close to figuring him out. Luckily he had gotten to play off that close brush with discovery back when he had been fifteen by explaining the suit was a gift from Stark Industries, a prototype that was ultimately scrapped. She bought that excuse but Peter still wondered how much his aunt still suspected. After all the times coming home beat up to hell and back, he wondered if she actually had figured it out back then and just refused to make things harder for him. But then he’d reason that she would undoubtedly have been trying to get him to stop putting himself in danger. Peter didn’t know what to believe but he knew he could trust her. With anything. So maybe he could trust her with his problems involving Wade.

    Cresting the few steps, he opened the door with a slight knock, greeted almost instantly with a worn-looking woman bearing eyes holding a multitude of emotions that were absolutely impossible to decipher. They embraced quickly and with fervor, parting before she started crying, as they both knew she would do if the hug lasted any longer. She didn’t speak at first, just gestured towards the sofa and lead him to sit with her. The scent of slow cooking chicken broth and low lying lavender candles swirled in an awkward combination that he immediately recognized and fell into. It was the scent of home, of safety, of love. The walls of the house engulfed him in warmth, Aunt May always keeping the temperature up in the winter on account of both her age and general comfort. The couch offered soft solace within its fabric cushions, the blanket thrown over it’s back immediately coming to Peter’s aid as Aunt May handed it to him. Her eyes were quick to evaluate her nephew, the practised ease of detection a mastered skill on her part.

    “Well, let’s get you something to eat. We can talk about it later. I have some leftover cherry pie, your favorite.” she hummed as she stood, moving over to the small kitchen to fetch a plate.

    Despite his love for the pie and the salivation going on in his mouth at the mere mention, he didn’t think his stomach would be able to handle such rich foods after being in a state of near-starvation. So he shook his head, even though she couldn’t see, “Um, Aunt May, I think I would prefer something more… easy to digest. I’ve been on a very strict diet in the hospital, doctors said I should have plain foods for a while.”

    “Oh well of course. I have some chicken broth that I was going to make into a larger soup, but I think it’ll serve its purpose now.” she altered course to grab a bowl and the soup from the stove, something that was already warming his core at the idea of it.

    The soup helped his constitution, his pale, sickly color receding to a warm blush after he had eaten a bowl and a half of the broth. By that time, his aunt had talked about her job, fussed about one of her friends falling because the older woman hadn’t bothered to look where she was going, and all the gossip she had been storing for Peter in the last few weeks since he had seen her. It was familiar and he was lulled into the sense of pattern, of regularity. But all was not well and they were both just skirting the larger issue: the fact that Peter looked sicker than he ever had.

    “You’re so skinny, Peter.” her voice softly broke the silence that had fallen after she had concluded a story, her gaze on his frame and then the bags under his eyes.

    “Yeah… I can’t sleep and I can’t eat. Even before the accident.” he admitted slowly.

    “When will you stop blaming yourself? It’s been months… I’m worried about you.” she smoothed his hair back, noting his dirtiness and bruises.

    “It’s hard not to see my fault in their deaths. Mary Jane, Henry, and Gwen died because of things I did that lead up to the moment of their last breaths. I'm not directly responsible, but I’m also to blame.” Peter muttered, eyes downcast and to the side.

    “You know that’s not true. How can that be true?” Aunt May asked softly.

    Peter was silent for a while before he shrugged lightly, “A friend has been trying to convince me of that too. He’s been partially successful, I’m trying to come to grips with my lost life now… I can fall asleep around him, he makes me eat when I need to, he listens wholeheartedly to my problems, he encourages my good habits… But I’m afraid that he’s not good for me. He’s violent, he does things that are not right, he acts way outside the law, he’s an asshole sometimes, his morals are twisted, and no matter how many times I try to tell him that what he’s doing is _wrong_ , he doesn’t see it that way.” Peter found himself confessing, holding his hands tightly together.

    Aunt May’s expression softened and the smallest of smiles graced her lips, “It sounds like you love him, dear.”

    “What?” Peter’s dumbfounded face hurriedly turned to see her amused one.

    “You wouldn’t care enough to wish to change him, to want him in your life, if you didn’t love him. It sounds like he might love you too. He seems to care about your well being.” she explained, bringing her hand overtop his clasped ones.

    “But, did you not hear me? He’s probably not good for me.” Peter explained, his brows knitting together.

    “It is not my job to judge another person. Yes, I would be scared to have you be around someone who might drag you into unfavorable situations. But it sounds like he cares, and anyone who can help you sleep and eat properly has my seal of approval. But the second he hurts you, I will make him regret ever being born.” she explained with a straight face.

    “Jeez, Aunt May, that’s a bit much. I don’t think that it's like that. I think… I don't know what I think.” Peter sighed, leaning his head back.

    “I just want you to be happy.” she explained, again brushing his hair aside as she smiled at him.

    “Yeah, me too.”

    He spent the next few hours trading stories, explaining all he was comfortable with divulging in regards to the accident, covering up the parts having to do with being Spider-Man by telling her there were NDAs he had to follow. She seemed to accept it and they watched television late into the night, when Peter decided to stay.

    The shower he took to calm his nerves and try to lull him into a relaxed state didn’t even have an effect on his insomnia. It was only after the first hour or two when the sleeping pill Aunt May had given him kicked in and he was able to rest. Peter tried not to rely on the sleep inducers, mostly because his healing factor would quickly render the effect useless and he would have no way of artificially falling asleep. The morning came way too early but also way too late, mostly because he only managed to sleep a few hours and because his struggling was over.

    The coffee in the morning helped, but the bags under his eyes only deepened, his body crumpling on itself. He knew he was sick, and at this point, he wondered if he’d ever feel normal again. Trudging around the house, napping when he could, and watching more television finally convinced Aunt May to say something as she sighed softly and looked to her nephew.

    “You’re depressed Peter. I think that you are drowning in self loathing and your loneliness. I think you need to go find this guy and talk to him. I want you to make up. You need friends and people to care for you. I can’t be the one to do it, my love is unconditional but you need someone to give you that love, someone that doesn’t have to but will anyway.” she said, her eyes a storm of worry, sadness, and apology.

    “I’m not… I’m not depressed. I’m just-” Peter began defensively.

    “You’re just having trouble sleeping, eating, or doing anything productive. Yes, you’re depressed. Your work, your school, your life, it’s all suffering. You’re suffering. Please, for me. Just try to talk to someone, anyone. I can scrape together enough for a therapist if you need-” Aunt May began, but this time Peter interrupted her.

    “No, you can’t pay for a therapist. I’m fine… I’ll talk to someone, I promise. Just don’t worry about me, I’ll get through this.” he assured her, sinking lower into the cushions he was sitting on.

    She didn’t look convinced but she didn’t say anymore, simply nodding before bringing over a sandwich for the both of them. He managed to eat half of it, more out of politeness than actual hunger, but she seemed satisfied so she didn’t push him to eat the rest. The day passed much the same, the sun streaming through the window to aid in warming the space, the news drawling in the background, of which he was trying to ignore, despite all the death and destruction. He wasn’t paying much attention, simply doing a puzzle with Aunt May at the kitchen table when a particular news cast began speaking and his name caught his attention.

     _“It’s been over a week now since the disappearance of New York’s favorite hero. No one is yet sure what’s happened to the man known as Spider-Man but officials refuse to comment. Two locals describe seeing the wall crawler get shot early last week but there is yet any evidence to support this. Crime rates have been increasing and the police are trying to decrease public unease, declining the idea that the disappearance of the hero has got anything to do with these increasing numbers. One local community in the suburbs has decorated their neighborhood with signs all hoping for Spider-Man’s wellness and safety.”_

    The news report shifted to pictures of a neighborhood he recognized and a lump caught in his throat when he saw the faces of Cadence and her mother. The swath of their neighbors with equally worried faces made him feel like he had neglected his duties, even if he had not been able to help it. His vacation needed to end soon, he had forgotten the city that cheered for him, that needed him. Such people like those were why he worked as a hero, he wanted to give them a safer life.

    Aunt May noticed him staring at the broadcast and she cocked an eyebrow, “They say he got caught up in something he shouldn’t have, that he was injured. It’s a shame really, the city misses him terribly.”

    Peter merely nodded and tried to focus again on the puzzle, tuning out the broadcast to the best of his ability. He couldn’t react in front of Aunt May, especially not when she was being so hyper aware of Peter like she had been the last two days. She would surely feel something was up.

    When Peter inevitably had to return to his apartment, she gave him bags of food, medicine, a bit of money for the cab fair, and clothes he had forgotten from his last visit. It was a bittersweet goodbye and Peter tried to pretend he didn’t see the dread in her eyes at watching him leave, of the fear that it could be her last time seeing him. He couldn’t, didn’t know how, to assuage that fear. So he simply walked down the street, hailing a cab as it passed, trying to dislodge the bad feeling that was building at the base of his neck from Aunt May’s advice. But he tried to play it off as paranoia, even as something felt incredibly _wrong_ with that line of thinking.

 

~~~

 

     **Stop.**

**_Hammer time! What, you set that one up yourself._ ** Yellow replied, chuckling at himself despite White’s obvious anger.

    “Guys, it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. Just a little reconnaissance that’s all. I gotta keep working after all.” Wade explained as he was busy freezing his ass cheeks off while perched on a high rise in the middle of New York City, his breath crystallizing even through the mask.

     **You should be home, trying to apologize to Peter for our shitty actions. The longer you wait, the more angry he’ll be.**

**_And here I thought you were smart. Peter doesn’t like to be pushed around immediately. He likes to stew, to get angry, to work over the situation and come to a conclusion. After he’s thought about it, then we can beg for forgiveness. Anything before that will be a wasted gesture seeing as he would view it as a half-hearted attempt at reconciliation._ ** Yellow explained.

     **Well it’s been days. Wait, how the hell did you even come up with that? Was that your last brain cell? At least you put it to good use. I didn’t know you could even pronounce reconciliation.** White muttered, obviously a little shocked.

     **_There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Whitey-boy._ **

**How, we’re the same person?** the sass was practically dripping from White’s sentence.

    “Just chill guys… I mean, just stop talking. We don’t need to get any colder. And we’re working. So just can it.” Deadpool snapped at himself, his sniper rifle lined up perfectly at the window across the street.

    He wasn’t going to be taking the shot that night, he just wanted to catch the motherfucker in the act of the underage rape he was accused of. He needed pictures, proof, before he could kill the fucking bastard. It was a rule he had recently implemented, mostly because of Spidey. The arachnid didn’t know it, but Wade was trying to be better about who and why he killed. Taking jobs was becoming much harder but discovering that his targets actually fucking deserved the death they got made him feel all the more accomplished. A while ago, a pair of sweet, hurt eyes could convince him of a person’s guilt, but now he made sure, double sure, that his targets were guilty. He was trying. So why did he still feel shitty about that doctor?

     **Maybe because you murdered him in cold blood right in front of the love of our life after he asked you not to?** White suggested, obviously angry.

     **_Yeah, that’ll bring out the old guilt faster than you can even put your mouth in your foot, again._ ** Yellow added, not helping in the least bit.

     **Wait, his mouth in his foot? When did we ever- oh, yeah that’s right. Bosnia was a bitch of a contract.** White acquiesced, nodding silently.

    “If I have to tell you two to shut up again, then I will blow my fucking brains out.” Wade warned the two.

    They were both silent, knowing that they had waited a few days for the contract to be within sight of their reconnaissance and if they screwed that up by dying, it would be more long nights in the freezing cold to get their intel. Gazing back through the rifle’s scope, the little crosshairs pointed directly at the window as a silhouette crossed into view.

**Beginning of Warning Zone**

     The curtains were pulled back just enough to see the man: his beer belly expanded with fresh alcohol, his shaven head glistening with sweat, and his bare body thrusting into a smaller body beneath him. It was disgusting, but he had to keep watching. He had to make sure that it was a child beneath the man and not a petite woman. It was an uncomfortable while before they changed positions and her face was revealed. She looked about eleven or twelve, barely old enough to even understand what was being done to her. Wade shook with his anger, his outrage, his finger itching at the trigger. But to scar her further by splattering her with the blood of the man defiling her, Deadpool couldn’t do that. But he had his proof now.

**End of Warning Zone**

     Taking a picture with the long range camera, he documented the vile evidence for his plan. He wanted the fucker to see what he had done from an outside view as he slowly bleed out. That seemed somewhat satisfactory.

     **_Are we going to leave her?_ ** Yellow asked softly.

     **Can we afford spooking the guy into fleeing the state? If we try to rescue her, he might become suspicious. We’d lose him and then we’d have to track him down. There’s no telling how many more will suffer if we don’t take this opportunity.** White reasoned, though the remorse was plain in his voice.

    “Her suffering won’t go in vain. I will make sure of that.” Wade responded, his teeth gritting.

    But he pulled the gun up and packed it away, his hands still shaking from his rage. At this rate, he was going to take someone’s head that night. But he did manage to get down the fire escape and start walking down the back alleys, despite the near blinding rage.

     **_We should go see Pet- I mean… uh._ ** Yellow stopped talking, his words trickling to silence.

     **Peter would normally make this situation better. He’d make us less angry. But right now, it might be dangerous for both him and us to interact. We might end up hurting hi-**

“I would never hurt my baby boy. No matter how angry I was.” Wade growled, his fists balled up even tighter.

    “Sounds like you’re having a rough night. I’m assuming you found Peter if you’re doing _other_ work. So did you and the little bug fight?” a gruff voice cut through his inner monologue and shocked the mercenary into delivering a roundhouse kick towards the person behind him.

    Daredevil bent backwards, avoiding the kick narrowly, his red clad body righting itself after a moment. A cocky grin caught the other man’s lips for a moment before a frown replaced it, shaking his head lightly, “That’s no way to greet the man who helped you rescue Peter, now is it?”

    “You damn sneak, don’t scare me like that. It’s like you don’t even exist half the time, I swear. Why are you even out and about? Weren’t you like, nearly made deaf?” Deadpool murmured, shaking his head.

    “I was almost deaf, but I had good surgeons. I received no permanent damage, thankfully. I recovered for a few days so I’m better now. I was trying to find you or Peter but he wasn’t at home for a few days and I couldn’t get you on the phone. I happened to be passing through and swung by his apartment again on the off chance and found him there tonight. But he seemed worn out.” Matt crossed his arms, his face obviously concerned.

    “Well he doesn’t sleep pretty much ever so...”

    “You found him in a pretty bad state, or so I heard from the hero grape vine. Tony is a blabber mouth, after all. I also heard you made some pretty questionable decisions when you did find him.” Matt began, his frown deepening.

    “Save your lecture, I know what I did. I regret it but that doesn’t mean baby boy will forgive me so easily. I’ve been keeping my distance for a few days. Three, as a matter of fact. I don’t know if I’m ready for the conversation we’re going to ultimately have. I don’t want to hear him say that he never wants to see me again.” Wade said, turning his back on the other hero to continue walking down the alley.

    “Since when did you become so timid? You’ve always charged into things head first and with gusto. You’re just going to lay down and roll over with something this important? You love him. I know you do, it’s not hard to see. You make each other better people.” Daredevil affirmed, walking after the merc.

    “He deserves better than I can give him. I can’t change who I am, not even for him. Not the way he wants me to. I’m not the person he needs.” Wade tried, gruffly shrugging off the other man’s words.

    “Well if you really believe that then walk away. Yeah, Peter will find someone to make him happy later, maybe. Eventually he may settle down and make a family. But that ‘later’ might be too late. He needs someone _now_ and you’re all he’s got. Peter is not a fool, he would not waste energy on you if he didn’t think you were worth it. He doesn’t want you to stop being you, that would defeat the purpose of him caring for you. But he wants you to be the best version of you that you can be. So if that’s not what you want, then walk away.” Matt’s voice chased him relentlessly and Wade balled his fists, knowing the man was right.

    “I just want him to be happy. You should have seen his face. He was so… disappointed in me,” Wade managed through clenched teeth, “I thought I was used to such feelings, to letting people down. But that wasn’t right. That hurt right here.” he gestured to his chest and turned back to the blind hero.

    “Well, I’m assuming you’re pointing to your heart. I can’t tell you what to do, I can only suggest and hope you don’t break that already fragile boy,” Matt explained, shoulders squared before he walked towards the street after a moment, “go and see him. Apologize and make up. It’s been long enough, Wade.”

    There was a long moment of silence: utter, unfamiliar silence as Wade processed the words spoken to him. Nothing seemed more right than seeing Peter about it but he didn’t know what to say, what to do. It took a few more minutes of shivering in the cold for Yellow to finally speak up.

     **_I think the jury has made its ruling._ **

**I agree, perhaps we should bring him flowers.** White suggested.

     **_Just wrap our dick in a nice bowtie. That’s better than any bundle of flowers._ ** Yellow snickered.

    “I’m just going to stick to tacos, Peter hasn’t had tacos in a long time.” Wade mumbled, his legs moving down the street subconsciously.

    He had to prepare for the storm that was coming and he was, for the first time in a long time, completely unsure of where he would be standing the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Next chapter might finally get to the sexy times depending on how my pacing goes. Idk we will see lol.))


	9. Entangling Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finally realizes he's got a thing for Wade. It might be love, it might be attraction, well, it's a thing at the very least XD
> 
> Progress, sweet, sweet progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So I've been really sick, was in the hospital for a while and then got out in time enough to go to a week of college classes before getting the flu. Yeah, the one that like 10 people have already died from. But I'm getting better so that's good. I shouldn't die lol, just been hard to do anything. But I had nothing to do except write so this happened, sorry for the wait. I make no promises for when the next chapter will come out. Also this feels shorter than other chapters but I think it's the normal like 10 or so pages I usually try to meet per chapter.))

    His bed wasn’t completely warm, but it was a large step up from the couch. Peter had made the necessary calls and set his affairs in order, both to his job and the university. The next morning would be when he would go back to school and work the morning after that, his work schedule set a little lighter than normal to not endanger his health. Having found out about Wade paying for the next half a year, he didn’t have much to worry about with finances so he could afford the smaller amount of work. The day passed quickly with a small nap for about thirty minutes at around six and then fixing a sandwich with some of the ingredients Wade had left behind. It was all the youth could do to get the food down him without throwing it back up. To say he felt sick was an understatement and he was very tired of not feeling himself. He didn’t like being mopey or downtrodden. He wanted to be like he was before: optimistic, a little more naive, and healthy. But all he could do was look in the mirror and lament the body that was wasting away.

    He hadn’t done much except for lounge around and watch a little tv, trying to catch up on the news and drown himself in leisure, forcing his body and mind to stop altogether and try to recuperate. As the day waned and night fell over the city, Peter grew restless despite himself, his hands fidgeting with energy, glancing from his window to his bed. It was easy to rationalize why he shouldn’t go out that night, but he stood at his window and felt a stinging longing in his heart. The television played in the background, adding noise to his otherwise silent surroundings, but he wasn’t paying attention to it, as usual.

     Unnecessary thoughts crept their way into his subconscious, worries he didn’t want to be attending to at that moment. But they were relentless in their pursuit of his attention, surfacing ever more strongly as time went on. _Did he even deserve to be Spider-Man anymore if he enjoyed one man’s death so much? Could he even physically do it anymore? Tony had assured him his physical capabilities would return but he felt weak._

    Wrapping himself in a blanket, Peter paced the room, tracing his old path from nights spent worrying about tests, his aunt, their livelihood, and his future. The path was worn and familiar in all the wrong ways, making him feel like he was just doing the same things he had always done without anything changing. There was such conflict within him, such weakening conflict and he knew it. The last time he questioned himself like this, he lost his powers. A cold chill ran up his spine and he turned to the wall, putting his fingertips lightly against the cool surface, feeling the familiar tug of the hairs locking him in place. But he had to know for sure, so he pulled himself upwards by the smallest amount, placing his other hand higher and gripping with his feet. Soon enough, he was in a corner, stuck to the ceiling. He was indeed clinging which caused a great upheaval in his chest: one of the most relieved sighs he could recall in recent memory.

    Yet the passing worry was replaced by ever more worries. It wasn’t like he could settle himself either: Peter Parker was good at stressing himself out but not calming down. But taking deep breathes, he stilled his body, hoping he could get his thundering heartbeat to return to a more natural rate. Somehow managing to take his nerves down slightly, he lowered himself down from the ceiling as he tried to get his shaking frame from losing his grip. Despite knowing his powers had not vacated his use, he still felt vulnerable. Sleep wasn’t an option and so he would have to battle his demons for most of the night at the very least.

    He was so lost in his worries that when his phone rang, he nearly jumped to the ceiling, which had occurred on previous occasions. Picking up the phone in a hurry, he glanced at the screen and almost didn’t recognize the caller ID before he blinked and the letters made sense and arranged into the correct name. Pressing the accept button, he held it up to his ear as he sat on his couch, legs crossed beneath him and blanket snugly wrapped around his shoulders.

     _“Hey there champ. How are you?”_ the distinctive, deep, and robust voice of the Sentinel of Liberty and America’s sweetheart came through the speakers, instantly acting as a salve on Peter’s raw nerves.

    “I’ve been way better. Tony fill you in?” Peter mumbled into the speaker, his head cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder, fingers absently playing with the hem of the blanket after having found the remote to lower the volume even more on the television.

     _“Yeah, I was worried after what he told me. Are you okay after all of that? I know you and Wade have been getting closer so I just…”_ Steve’s voice trailed off but his meaning was evident to the young superhero.

    “Honestly, I’m not sure what to think. I can’t think any worse of him for it since it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. And part of me is satisfied with watching Wade kill that man for me… Does that sound as bad as I think it sounds?”

     _“I can’t judge you for that, Peter. I’ve had my moments, I’ve killed people that didn’t deserve it, killed people and enjoyed it for personal reasons. What you went through, I would have felt much the same after watching my torturer get what they deserved. But… that’s not really what I meant.”_ Steve seemed to be leading him somewhere and Peter cocked an eyebrow even though he knew the other wouldn’t be able to see him.

    “What do you mean, then?” Peter changed the phone to his other ear, closing his eyes as he leaned back against his sofa.

     _“Everyone knows it, Peter. We can all see it, the way you are around him. We’ve heard the stories, the way you talk about him-”_

    “Wait, what are we talking about?” Peter interrupted the man on the line, pinching the bridge of his nose.

     _“Peter, you like him. You should probably talk to him about it.”_ Captain America said, obviously smiling as he did so.

    “You are the second person to say that. I’m starting to find it hard to deny any longer.” he sighed as he shook his head softly.

     _“I mean, Tony and I denied it for a while. It was too much, too soon. It wasn’t the right time for us but you don’t have the same troubles as we did.”_

    “Yeah, you’re right: we have different problems.”

     _“All couples do. Just talk to him about it, things will go well.”_ Steve assured him, obviously smiling.

    “How can you be so sure?”

     _“I’m not, but when am I ever? Things usually turn out well for us. I wouldn’t worry over it as much. You care for him, that’s all that matters.”_

    “It’s a foreign concept to me, but my gut coils a bit at the thought of him. I wanted to deny it, I think I’ve been denying it for a while, before all this happened. But whether or not I’m completely sure, I think I won’t ever be positive until I just try. When I remember waking up after getting shot, the relief I felt when I knew he was there, it was something overcoming. Even before that. He made me feel safe, no matter what kind of situation we were in. We compliment each other during work and when we’re just hanging out. It’s so easy to be beside him. I’ve suddenly fallen head over heels... That sounds corny as hell, though... but I feel like a giddy teenager again when he’s with me. It’s hard to even admit that I… that I think I’m in love with Wade.”

    The sound of something hitting the floor had Peter’s feet suddenly under him in his signature crouch as he shifted his weight upwards, his head snapping towards his door. Standing before him was the last person he had expected to see, a bouquet of flowers at his feet. Peter’s face went blank before a blush started like a wildfire on his cheeks, spreading across his face with incomparable speed, his mouth floundering as his brain and tongue tried to form words.

    Peter had been so engrossed in the phone call that he hadn’t even heard the knock at the door. He hadn't heard the door unlocking and he hadn’t heard the creek of the old hinges in their protest as the door had swung open. When the other person took a step forward, Peter sprung into action as he pushed himself from the couch and took multiple, surprisingly graceful steps back, blanket clutched in his arms. It took a moment for him to fully realize and comprehend who was standing in front of him, a hand raised in defense, body shaking slightly.

    “Hey Petey, um, you okay there?” the masked, spandex clad hero asked, his voice high and quiet, his frame also shivering.

     _“Is that Wade?”_ Peter started at the noise, the voice at the other end of the phone suddenly tensing.

 

***

     **_Are we dead?_ ** Yellow asked softly.

     **Um, we surely didn’t hear him right. Perhaps he knows another Wade, it’s not like our name is exclusive to us.** White tried to explain, though his usual haughty, intelligent enthusiasm was gone, like he didn’t want to be right.

     **_It’s our fucking fanfic. If it’s not us, who the fuck else would he be talking about?!_ ** Yellow exploded, his energy pulsing through them in a way that usually only happened during high action situations.

    “Hey, um, I uh, got you some flowers. I know, how thoughtful of me... I, mean, uh, I thought you might like them.” Wade explained, finding it difficult to ignore his boxes, reaching down to pick up the dropped collection of petals.

    Peter’s face was awash with complicated emotions, yet the overarching embarrassment was winning out on the other expressions. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then tried again, “They, um, they are very pretty.”

    The youth didn’t move from his spot, his body curled as if ready to bolt at any moment, almost like a scared, wounded animal. Wade wasn’t good at being careful, he didn’t know what to say. The larger man looked down at the flowers, their buds boasting white, gold, and pink colors, an arrangement that he had no name for: the florist had simply handed him the bouquet, saying it would work as an apology gift. Peter was looking down at his hands, trying to look anywhere but at the man in front of him. Wade was confused, he expected hostility, anger, frustration, not this quiet withdrawal, “You’re not even mad that I broke in? You’re not gunna throw the flowers in my face?”

    Peter looked up, seeming to have just realized that those were options, “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I should say or do right now. I’m not sure what you’re going to say or do so I’m just trying to prepare myself, I think.”

     **_Offer to sleep with him. Immediately._ **

**** **I think that would be a little much considering the situation.**

“Do you want to sit down? We could talk...?” Wade found himself saying honestly, his arms at his sides, flowers placed on the coffee table.

     **_Oh fuck._ **

**** **Well, here we go, I guess.**

Peter paused, his eyes unsure, yet wary, those brown eyes soaking him up with their hesitancy, with their intimacy and grace. Wade found himself falling into them a little too deeply, backpedaling really quickly when he realized he had taken a step towards the boy. The web head didn’t seem to have noticed Wade’s advances, or he didn’t flinch from them. Wade didn’t know which he preferred, given the situation.

     _“Peter, are you still there?”_ a muffled voice came from the phone in Peter’s hand and the web head flinched, pulling the device back to his ear.

    “Yeah, um, I’ll call you back. That talk with Wade is going to be happening sooner than we thought.” Peter managed, trying his hardest to make his voice as amusing as he could.

    _“Well, jeez. Um, good luck. Call if you need anything, Tony and I are here for you.”_ the voice said hurriedly before the line went dead.

    Peter laid the phone on the couch arm, sitting down on the cushions with his legs pulled to his chest. He looked scared, an emotion Wade hadn’t seen on the hero’s face in a long while. But the assassin didn’t sit with the boy, he stood where he was and waited for something, not sure if he should start or not.

    “Um, you… you heard all that, right?” the youth murmured, his ears bright red in the adorable way they usually were when he was embarrassed.

    “Yeah, I heard it, baby boy.” Wade’s voice was soft, also a murmur.

    They remained in silence for a while before the larger male walked over and crouched in front of Peter, taking the other’s hand in his. Turning the hand over, he kissed the back of it through his mask, fingers trembling, “I’m just not altogether convinced this isn’t a dream. I’m waiting to wake up, baby boy.”

    Peter nearly audibly swallowed, his eyes wide and pupils blown. There was a moment where he could see the boy sinking into the drunken stupor that he had been in that time they had been in the bathroom. But Wade didn’t want that just yet, well Yellow wanted it, but Wade _had_ to make sure.

    “You know what you’re getting into, right?” Deadpool muttered as he continued to apply light kisses to Peter’s hand.

    “No, but when have I ever? Yeah, I’m still mad about the doctor, but… but being apart from you for so long, it’s been hard. I got so used to having you around. I missed you.” Peter’s words were slow, like he was trying to find the right ones to say.

     “You couldn’t sleep?” Wade questioned, wondering if that was the only reason he would be needed.

    “I couldn’t, but that’s not the only thing I missed. I missed your _wisecracking_ jokes, your _incredulous_ ideas, and _charming_ personality.” Peter managed a laugh, picking on Wade like they usually would.

    “You did huh, well I’m always happy to oblige. But where did this all come from? Last I checked, you were keeping us as just friends.” Wade responded, an eyebrow cocking.

    “I don’t know when. But I've only recently become aware of these feelings- within the last few days, in fact. I still don’t know what to do with them or just how deep they go.” Peter confessed truthfully, eyes a bit lidded at the attention his hand was still getting.

    “Well, we can figure it out later. You’re tired, aren’t you? I will be of service to you tonight.” Wade explained, setting his swords up against the couch and scooping up the younger male, carrying him to the bed.

    “Oh, um okay. I would normally object, given the situation, but staying up anymore might actually kill me.”

    Peter curled instantly into Wade’s broad chest, absorbing the body heat greedily. The man-for-hire didn’t want to let the spider go, yet he laid the male down and crawled in next to him, kicking his shoes off quickly, thanking his lucky stars that he had chosen to wear socks for the stakeout from earlier. The web slinger was quick to lay facing Wade, his eyes bright and unsure.

    “Will you be here when I wake up?” Peter murmured, his eyes already starting to close.

    “You know it, baby boy.” Wade responded, pulling the covers up over Peter’s body.

    “I haven’t slept a full night since I fell asleep on your chest.” Peter sighed, his head tucked beneath Wade’s chin.

    Wade tensed, angry at that fact: his baby boy had been suffering. But Peter shifted against his suddenly tensed body and he forced himself to relax, his frown still plastered on his face.

     **_Ummmmm, Earth to Wade. Are we just going to sit here and wait for him to wake-up?!_ **

**** **Yes, we are. Because Peter needs rest, more than he needs to think about us and our needs.**

**_I object highly to this._ **

**Yeah, we know you do. Just entertain yourself with riddles.**

**_You know I fucking hate riddles._ **

**Yes, I am aware.**

“Guys, shhhhh.” Wade said as quietly as he could, trying to close his own eyes.

    But Peter’s body next to him was making it difficult to find sleep. The boy’s warmth was familiar and foreign, his rhythmic breaths descending into the deeper, longer intakes of sleep. His head was buried in the older man’s chest and Wade felt like he shouldn’t breath for fear of waking the spider. It was so delicate: the situation, the moment, the boy.

    All Wade could do was count the minutes and hope Peter would get the rest he needed, all while planning how exactly he could propose to the boy in the morning.

     **_We are proposing already?_ **

**I think it was more of a figure of speech.**

 

*******

 

Peter wasn’t fully aware he was awake until the grogginess lifted. Without moving, he could already feel that his limbs were heavy, encased in iron, and his joints were rusted. Gathering the courage to open his eyes, he wondered what he would find. He had almost forgotten the sensation of waking up after a long time sleeping.

    Instead of finding restraints or lab equipment like he had expected, he found red and black, confused for a moment. But the scent of tacos, sweat, and gunpowder was a dead giveaway as he pushed a bit on the man in front of him. Wade didn’t budge at first and Peter tried to maneuver away, only to find that he was trapped by a leg and arm. For a moment the spider considered trying to fall back asleep but he felt well rested, something he didn’t want to jeopardize by trying to get more rest. But he glanced to the bedside and found the numbers reading one in the afternoon: his classes would be starting soon and he wanted to get ready.

    “Hey, Wade… wake up.” Peter mumbled, touching his hand to the man’s chest.

    Again Wade didn’t move but his breaths caused his chest to expand and Peter was suddenly very aware of the muscles beneath his fingertips. He had touched Wade before, during battle and when they were hanging out, but he had never purposely _felt_ the man and to find the very appealing strength there was exhilarating. Swallowing hesitantly, the spider sent out his feelers, his fingers picking along Wade’s body with the lightest of touches. The curvature of the flesh and sinew had a light blush decorating the youth’s face. But his wandering hands soon stilled, caught in the idea that he shouldn’t be doing this to Wade without his consent. Peter knew very well the pains of having not consented to something so physical and intrusive. His body shuddered involuntarily and he shook the thought from his mind before it could supplant itself in his conscious. There would be no breakdown today. He had classes to attend to.

    Slithering his way out from under the larger man, he stretched out his body, rolling his shoulders and popping some joints. It felt good after having been locked in sleep for so long: his muscles weren’t used to such stillness for so long anymore. But he took careful steps to the bathroom, the creaky floorboards sparing him of their groaning. He was surprised at how Wade slumbered, he had half expected the merc’s senses to have stirred him awake at the slightest provocation. But he had probably gone many nights without sleep, judging by how worn his voice had sounded the night before. Peter could not bring himself to deprive the man sleep, thankful to have gotten some himself.

    Once in the bathroom, Peter splashed water on his face, trying to refresh himself. Having showered the day before, his lazy nature decided there was no need for yet another. But he did throw on deodorant, a new pair of boxer briefs, jeans, and a long sleeved shirt. Content with the clean clothes, he hurriedly brushed his teeth and scooped up his backpack where he had left it by the door. Reaching for the doorknob, the spider hesitated, glancing to Wade’s sprawled form on the bed. Feeling a twinge of something warm in his chest, it got caught in his throat, the feeling akin to sorrowful yearning. Was he pinning? The feeling was so odd in the moment that it took him off guard. He had reacted in that way to MJ on a few occasions when he had needed to leave her side for one reason or another. But he realized it was a more muted feeling, yet it was there.

     Hesitating at the door, he finally pulled the backpack off his shoulders and withdrew some pen and paper, taking a deep breath to steady his fingers.

 

***

     **_What time is it? Did we miss happy hour at the taco stand?_ ** Yellow yawned into their mind, dislodging the remaining sleep from their consciousness.

     **Never mind that. Where is Peter?** White noted with some apprehension.

    This had Wade sat upright, eyes scanning the apartment. He felt dazed, still confused as to what was going on and why the spider wasn’t nestled in bed where the merc had last left him.

     **_Holy shit, did someone steal him from right under us?!_ **

     **Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Check around the room, it doesn’t look broken into.**

    Wade did indeed glance around the corners of the small space, rolling off the bed to check the windows. They were still fastened securely, the bolts not tampered with. Investigation of the door held the same results. Finding discarded clothes in the bathroom granted no surprise either. But the small paper on the table near the door caught his attention and Wade lumbered over to it, picking it up quickly. His eyes beheld a neat scrawl across a lined piece of paper, his mouth tilting into a small smile as he read the words they pronounced.

     **_Well don’t just stand there dumbly, how are we supposed to know what it says if you don’t read it out loud? The readers aren’t psychic, ya know._ ** Yellow said in an exasperated voice.

    “It reads almost like a poem. He’s so cliche that it’s painful.” Wade muttered, laughing to himself.

     **Well Peter is one for poetic deep meanings.** White mused, also warmed by the words on the paper.

    The mercenary cleared his throat as he sat on the couch, adjusting the paper, “You were asleep when I awoke with feelings I didn’t understand. I still don’t know what to make of them, but I want to find out. It’s like my mind doesn’t know whether it wants to accept its own thoughts or not. You’re dealing with a heart you didn’t break, a mess you didn’t make, a broken peace you didn’t take. I’m caught between a love that died months ago, and this, whatever it is, between us. Whether I’m just now realizing it after my heart had plotted against me for quite a time before this, scheming a love for you without my knowledge, or something born quite spontaneously out of our time spent together, I am not one to quickly jump into things. To put it simply, I know not when I started loving you but it’s a matter of what I intend to do next. But that aside, I’ve gone to my classes now and I will return later tonight. I hope I’ll see you when I get back: it should be around five. Feel free to stay in the apartment if you want. If you want to leave, just use the window and leave it unlocked. You can come and go that way. I’d give you a spare key but I don’t exactly have one."

     **_Well, at least he’s putting his English classes to good use. What fancy language._ **

     **We always knew Peter was educated. He uses a lower level of vocabulary for us in common conversation. But he probably wanted to use precise words so we wouldn't mistake his meaning.**

“Well I guess we’ve gotta wait for baby boy to come home. I wonder how we’re going to go about this. He obviously knows we love him, _we’ve always loved him._ ”

     **_Do we need to convince him that he loves us?_ **

**** **I doubt it. We’re probably only going to be there to prove or disprove his feelings. As he had stated before, this could be something that's not love.**

“Our little bug can do whatever he likes. The fact he even admitted this to himself is a huge step in the right direction. We just have to win him over now.”

    Wade stood and paced about the room, planning the best course of action. The flowers still sat upon the coffee table, their catatonic state marred only by the dried petals. The assassin found a bowl, the best the college student seemed to own for the upkeep of flowers, and placed the stems in fresh water, situating them next to the window to gather sun. It seemed so fickle, so fragile to keep flowers. They were dying, had been dying since they had been cut, but they were still the truest way to tell someone that they were loved.

     **_Now that you mention it, picking flowers for someone is kind of morbid. ‘Here, I saw this beautiful thing and this thing reminded me of you. So I picked it, here put it in water so it can die more slowly.’_ **

**** **Well that is quite a morbid thought. Can’t say that’s what runs through my head at the idea of giving someone flowers.**

    “Yeah that was kinda fucked up.” Wade admitted, sitting on the couch once more.

     **_Well that aside, what are we going to do until he gets back?_ ** Yellow lamented, already fearing the boredom.

    “We can’t just leave. What if Petey comes home early and we aren’t here? I guess we are just going to wait.” Wade mused, crossing his legs and putting his arms behind his head.

     **Well we could at least go home and freshen up, maybe take a shower, get a new suit. We’ve been gnarly for a few days. It seems to be around 2:30 so we’ve got a bit of time.**

     **_Did you just use the word ‘gnarly’ in common conversation? I can’t believe I’m attached to such a lame person._ **

**** “Regardless of the words he used, White has a point. We could do with being cleaned up.”

    Deadpool folded the piece of paper in his hands and placed it in one of his many hidden pockets, wanting to keep it for the mere memorial value if anything. Pulling back on his shoes and strapping on his katanas, he glanced about the room with satisfaction. The merc made quick work of the latch on the window, finding it easy to operate as he pushed up the well oiled window and maneuvered through the opening. The afternoon sun was warming the chill of New York a small bit, the weather less dreary than it had been for the last few days.

    It was a quick run to his apartment over the rooftops of the city, his body pulsing with the unused energy. It felt good to run about the city, his personal playground, with no worries. He could almost imagine the wind in his hair and the sun on his skin, something he wished, not for the first time, could be a reality. Being a monsterous eyesore got old rather quickly, surprisingly. But the moment was over and he didn’t particularly feel like wallowing in self pity as he ducked into his own apartment, striping out of his clothes as he went. By the time his steely buns made it to the bathroom, he was fully prepared for the shower he was starting up.

     **_When was the last time we even took a shower?_ **

**** **When Peter was over, like a few weeks ago.**

    “Yeah, this oughta be fun. Let’s not subject the readers to that nasty experience again.”

     **Is it just because we don’t want them to know what we’re going to do?** White asked in classic exasperation.

     **_I’ll give them a hint. We’re gunna jack off._ ** Yellow giggled and Wade rolled his eyes, closing the door behind them.

    It was a nice and relaxing, allowing him to take away some tension both in his mind and body. The sexual pressure he was able to expel gave him a bit of peace as well, not having been able to get himself off in a while. Although he tried not to, it was hard not to think of Peter as he pleasured himself: there was no one else he wanted to be with. There hadn’t been since he had met the superhero. But the process was approached slowly and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom with a new suit on, it was something like 4:34, just enough time to show up before Peter when he got home from school.

    So by the time Wade had managed to get back to the apartment, he was anxious and pacing the length of the room. Thoughts of rejection, of pain, of unforeseen reactions vied for his attentions, aided in their struggles by the boxes. Was Peter just confused? Would he decide Wade wasn’t worthy of love? Would there be anything the anti-hero could say to get a second chance if that were the case? It was almost consuming his entire being when the door started to unlock.

    Wade stood, his body locked into a stone stance, fingers twitching at his side. In came the superhero, his hair wind blown and cheeks rosy from the cold. Peter stood for a moment as he stood before Wade, his head bowed slightly. The silence was agonizing as the spider didn’t move, didn’t speak.

    “I… I did some thinking. A lot of thinking… like I didn’t stop thinking from when I woke up this morning.” Peter’s voice quivered but he didn’t stutter after he began.

    “Yeah, I read the letter. It was quite poetic.” Wade nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

    “And I came to a conclusion. After making a list of why we shouldn’t be together, of reasons we aren’t good for each other, I found a list of the reasons we do go well together. And when I started, I couldn’t stop.” Peter held out a worn looking piece of paper and Wade had to sit on the couch behind him.

     **_Holy fuck._ **

**** **Holy fuck.**

The voices sung in unison, every other thought void as Wade looked over the paper. Line upon line were filled out with reasons why Wade was a good person: the reasons why Peter loved him. Involuntarily, Wade’s hands shook, his heart broken from what he had only dreamed of.

    “Your encouragement helps me reach new heights, your reassuring touches keep me sane, your generosity to those who need you can put even the purest of saints to shame. The way you make me smile on a bad day, the way you always know what to say to make me feel strong, how you make my life better than okay, Wade. We aren’t perfect, we will never be perfect. But… we make each other better people. I should say no, I should keep us just friends. But I’ve grown to need you. I should stay strong… but I’m weak. But what’s wrong with that?” Peter took Wade’s hands and then he moved up to Wade’s face, eyes burning.

    “But… can I try something?” Peter asked hesitantly.

    “And what would that be?” Wade managed through a voice trying to coil in on itself.

    “First, close your eyes.” Peter seemed a bit amused at himself but Wade acquiesced without much of an argument.

    With his sight gone, he could hear Peter’s heart thundering, or perhaps it was his own. The slight push of air as Peter’s breaths tickled Wade’s face as he leaned down to him. His bare lips brushed Wade’s clothed ones, the faint touch exhilarating even when it wasn’t a full blown kiss. Even through the mask, that had been one of the best kisses Wade had ever experienced. The assassin’s audible inhale of air burned his lungs and the quickening of his heartbeat felt painful. There was a moment of stillness before Wade seemed to be able to form words again, the merc’s body completely rigid, eyes blown wide.

    “Ah, I see. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You actually kissed me. Oh boy, I’m actually dead already, aren’t I? Do you mean all this, baby boy?” Wade breathed.

    “Of course I do, you mean a lot to me Wade. Do you remember all those nights we had pizza, tacos, and chinese after patrols? You were my only solace for months: I looked forward to that time spent with you. You cared for me when I had only ever kept you at a distance. I’ve never let myself dwell on them but I can’t deny these feelings were always there. This is sudden, even I know that, but… but they say the best things in life happen suddenly.” Peter confessed slowly, eyes that bright intensity once more.

    “I just can’t seem to believe my ears, baby boy.” Wade explained, voice shaky.

    “Can I kiss you again? This time properly?” Peter tried with a bit more confidence.

    Wade didn’t answer but he watched the web head close his own eyes and reach up to the anti-hero’s mask. A small pull had the spandex free and Peter hesitated, giving Wade time to negate his advances. But the merc steeled his nerves, his fears, and let the younger man do as he pleased. Without opening his big brown eyes, Peter leaned in and pushed his lips against Wade’s. The warmth was entangling, the feeling euphoric, and the desire in him rose with every passing second. It was obvious Peter was inexperienced because he didn’t move, waiting for anything on Wade’s end to signal he was doing something correctly or incorrectly. Wade cupped Peter’s right cheek, moving his lips slowly, dragging them along the youth’s chapped but plump ones. He tasted of cherries and something the anti-hero could only guess was pure nerdy cuteness. It was addictive to say the least. But all good things had to come to an end and Peter's lips removed the contact between them, his fingers readjusting the mask before the younger hero opened his eyes once more.

     Peter’s eyes were sure, determined, and lustful as he took a step back, “I want to keep going Wade, I want this relationship to keep going.”

     The state he saw his baby boy in was barely withheld desire, body trembling, teeth biting lips, and pupils the size of marbles. To see such feeling directed at him had Wade taken aback to the point he almost didn’t catch the words that had left Peter’s mouth. When he opened his to respond, Peter was already speaking.

     “I want to keep going but I want to do this properly. I’m g-going to court you and we will spend time together and then um… d-don’t laugh at me.” Peter seemed to falter in his convictions as Wade bent in half, leaning over his legs, with laughter that rocked his body.

    “I’m sorry, baby boy. I just, you’re so cute. Only Peter Parker would kiss someone so brazenly with a look that says ‘please fuck me into the mattress’ and then say they want to take things slowly. You’re something else.” Wade explained, sitting back against the couch in amusement.

    “Is it so wrong for me to want to know you, Wade? The parts you won’t tell me. The parts I won’t tell you. These things need to breath fresh air again, there needs to be trust and understanding between us.” Peter explained, raking his fingers through his hair in what must have been a bit of distress.

    “You’re fine, Peter. I think that’s fine, in fact let’s just take it easy tonight. Let’s order pizza and play some video games.” Wade suggested, causing the briefest of smiles to grace the other male’s face.

    “Yeah, let’s do that.” Peter agreed, moving to grab his phone, the moment they had shared still hanging pleasantly between them.


	10. Reliving Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((WARNING: Mention/detailed description of rape
> 
> Backstory: For those of you who don't know, there was an issue of Spider-Man called 'Spider-Man and Power Pack # 1' (1984) that made mention of a man named Steven 'Skip' Westcott. He was an older boy (in high school) that befriended Peter (who at the time was about twelve or around there). The issue has a panel that shows Peter was molested by Steven and it was suggested the boy took it further. Whether Skip simply stopped at molesting or took it all the way, for this fic, I'm treating the latter as true. As disturbing as this is for some of you, I won't be pulling any punches and I apologize for that. This was never supposed to be a fic for those who wanted something light. Deadpool and Spider-Man have always had darker themes to them, especially Deadpool, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't utilize all my tools for this fic. If you are unable to read this chapter, or the rest of the fic for that matter, due to personal experience, I do apologize and wish you nothing but happiness, I truly do sympathize with you.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If anyone would like a summary of this chapter sans the details of Peter's past, I will happily edit the story and provide it in the end notes. Just let me know. Also I will do the same hereafter if people would like me to for any other chapter related to rape. There should only be this one and the next two if my plans are going to be followed for the fic. Also I'm hoping to get the chapter's lengths increased in these next few ones. I feel bad about such short ones, but I feel like the gap in time and the pacing fits with these shorter ones for now and ruining the pacing isn't worth putting in some random crap that just doesn't belong. With that being said, I will keep working on this to its completion so fear not me dropping it. It will just take time because I'm lazy and busy.)

    The night had been long, laced with emotions that begged to be acted upon. Yet nothing happened, they kept their promise not to do anything they wouldn’t normally have done and they spent the darkened hours playing games and eating pizza, lots of pizza. Life seemed a little easier that night, like that’s what the universe had always intended for a night in to be like for Peter.

    Wrapped in Wade’s warmth, they found sleep next to each other, a similar scene playing out from the morning before when Peter awoke. But he was not as unsure about his situation. As much as he could deny it, there was a natural progression from the time they had spent together. So when morning came once more, it wasn’t uncomfortable for the web-head to simply drape himself overtop Wade as he tried to untangle them from the sheets. As funny as it was, Wade cocooning himself in the blankets was less amusing in the morning, especially if said anti-hero had clung to Peter all night, causing the youth to be trapped between muscle and fabric.

    “Yo, Wade, it’s morning now. You should get up.” Peter mumbled, dislodging the sleep from his own consciousness while placing a hand on the merc’s chest to shake him awake, pulling the assassin from sleep.

    “Ugh, five more minutes.” Wade groaned.

    “For a mercenary with such highly regarded reflexes, you’re a heavy sleeper.” Peter teased, wriggling his body in an attempt at freedom.

    “No, I was awake, I just don’t wanna admit it.” Wade countered, encasing Peter further, much to the spider’s dismay.

    Peter tried to push against Deadpool, turning so that his back was pressed up against the spandex-clad man. Only realizing what a compromising position he was in after he had already maneuvered himself into it, Peter blushed a bit, the nap of his neck tingling with Wade’s breath.

    “You trying to turn me on, baby boy? Because it’s working.” Wade’s quiet voice came from behind him.

    Peter tried to reposition himself but the sheets seemed to only be constricting his movements further. Clearing his throat, Peter tried to explain, “I um… I just wanted to get out. I wanna get out of bed.”

    “Then, by all means, get out of bed. If you think you can that is.” Wade chuckled, causing the muscles beneath him to ripple a bit.

    “Oh, is that a challenge? You know how flexible I am, I can get out of this if I really wanted to.” Peter churred, glancing behind him in a cocky manner.

    “Then why don’t you?” Wade remarked, a bit of competition bubbling through his words.

    It took a bit of finagling to finally get his arms in position, but he managed to produce a bit more room between his body and the sheets by leaning closer to Wade. From there he merely rolled over the other male until he was sitting on his chest, grinning triumphantly as the sheets fell away from their previous entanglement as the spider sat upright, beginning to stand. But in that same moment of triumph, one of his arms was grabbed and there was the feeling of weightlessness followed by his back on the bed, a body pressed firmly atop him, trapping him. And in that moment, he panicked. His body locked and his breath caught in his throat, eyes wide and terrified. The only thing he could think and rationalize was that he had to get out from beneath the person on top of him, his heart thundering in his ears, forehead beading sweat. His hand went up to the body on top of him, pushing with shaking limbs. The heaviness of a force pressing him down against sheets, the mattress giving in only just enough to make him feel encased on all side was disgustingly familiar. Even trying to find his sanity in the fact that it was Wade and _not that boy,_  he still couldn’t get that feeling of horror to leave. But Wade seemed to sense the shift in mood almost immediately and he was gone from view mere moments after Peter had started pushing on his chest.

    “Peter, are you alright? Did I hurt you, what happened?” Wade asked in a volley of worried questions, his body tensed.

    Peter sat up and placed his head in shaking hands, bringing himself back to reality as quickly as he could. It wasn’t fair, he thought he had gotten over this. He had seen counseling but it was still a _problem_. This was Wade, someone who would never even _consider_ doing what that person had done to him. He shouldn’t be remembering… but he was. After clearing his throat and trying to find his words, Peter simply shook his head. He wanted to think of a way to tell Wade what had happened in a manner that wouldn’t be worrying. But there was no way to do that, not without omitting some information or flat out lying to the merc.

    “I’m just… claustrophobic is all.” Peter tried, avoiding Wade’s eyes because he knew he was a bad liar: his eyes always gave him away.

    “Bullshit. You crawl into small spaces all the time. Willingly and sometimes excitedly. You’re a fucking spider, Peter. Give me the real reason.” Wade said firmly.

    “I’m fine, I promise. I just… I’m fine.” Peter tried again, this time standing and walking towards the bathroom, intent on putting some distance between them, if only for clarity's sake.

    “Petey, wait. Please tell me what happened. If it’s something I did, I can’t fix it unless you tell me.” Wade tried in a gentler tone, his worry probably at max levels.

    The wall crawler already felt shitty for making Wade worry, but he felt even shittier for feeling so weak, for seeming so weak that Wade had to treat him like a wounded animal… maybe he was just a wounded animal. The thought stuck in his head and churned his stomach, his memories flashing up at him in a reminder of just how weak he truly was: hands running the length of his body, teeth sunk into his shoulder, forcing entry as he was held down. A hand flew to his mouth and Peter was charging into the bathroom, throwing the toilet lid up as his stomach expelled everything it contained, body washed with sweat. He felt so empty as he lost his meal from the night before, his eyes watering at the overwhelming disgust he felt. He spat out what was left of the bile and took a moment of clutch the toilet bowl, trying to make sure he was done. The thoughts kept invading his head space and just as soon as he thought he was going to be okay, he was throwing up some more.

     It was another long while before he could even get himself to stand, his mind a jumble and his body a wreck. He couldn't stop his shaking, even after he was sure his body couldn't possibly have anything to expel any longer. He found the faucet quickly after flushing the toilet, running the water over his hands as his breath came in short gasps. Wade stood by the door, looking so helpless, so unsure and Peter splashed water on his face to cool the heated skin, trying to ignore what had just happened. The taste in his mouth was disgusting and he grabbed his tooth brush, applying the toothpaste and scrubbing away the evidence of his thoughts from his teeth and tongue, the minty aftertaste a disappointing consolation.

    “So, um, you wanna go grab some breakfast… or something?” Peter asked, trying to laugh away Deadpool’s worry as he finally turned to address the man.

    “I’ll go get you some water.” Wade said after a moment, disappearing from the door with obvious discontent.

    Peter put a hand to his forehead, staring in the mirror as he ran his other hand through his hair. He should tell Wade, he needed to tell him. There was no way they could progress any further in their relationship if he didn’t clear this up. He had even asked Wade last night to tell him the things that he didn’t want to share. Wasn’t it only fair to tell Wade his own insecurities and brokenness? But how could he possibly do that now?

    When the other male returned with a glass of water, Peter took it gingerly with a nod, downing most of it in a few gulps, the glass placed on the sink and forgotten a moment later. Wade waited patiently with his arms crossed, his frame practically blocking any escape, should the arachnid try. He had to say something to the man, even if it was only a pity card that he pulled. But Wade beat him to it.

    “Am I disgusting to you, Peter?” Wade’s voice was calm, far too blunt and normal for such a question.

    Peter blanched and shook his head, “I have some things I’m not over, some scars I carry. Things were… done to me when I was younger… things I can’t help but remember at times. It’s not you Wade, god no, it’s not you Wade. I’m not disgusted by you.”

    “Things… done to you? What do you mean?” Wade asked, taking a step closer, his anger flaring up.

    “I’ll tell you, I promise I will tell you. But I have to prepare myself first. I’ll… breakdown otherwise.”

    Wade looked as if he wasn’t going to take that, wasn’t going to accept that. But then his shoulders fell and a hand came to his face to pinch his nose, “Okay, well I guess I should get some food into you then. Looks like you threw it all up. You want me to make you some pancakes? I make reallllly good pancakes.” Wade tried, obviously attempting to ease the tension and give Peter space.

    “Yeah, that sounds fine. I have to go to work in a bit but I have some time for pancakes.” Peter acquiesced, rolling with Wade’s lead, knowing he wanted this moment to pass as soon as possible.

    “Do you want chocolate chips or strawberries? Red or black, you know both colors are awesome.” Deadpool asked as he rummaged through Peter’s kitchen, his voice a bit too hollow to convey his usual playfulness.

    “Um, strawberries. Chocolate in the morning upsets my stomach.” Peter mumbled as he walked out from the bathroom and moved to stand in front of his closet, figuring he should change into fresh, non-sweat soaked clothes.

    He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a new long sleeved shirt off of their hangers. The shirt wasn’t very attractive, just a simple design of blue with Stark’s logo on the arm. A lot of his clothes were Stark branded, mostly because that’s what Tony would give him whenever he stopped by the tower and needed a civilian change of clothes. But the fabric was indeed comfortable so there was never a problem in Peter’s mind. Bringing the old shirt he had been wearing up and over his head, he tossed it to the floor in his classic bachelor style before pulling on the new article of clothing, relishing the feeling as the warm and clean fabric slid onto his body.

    A low and drawn whistle caught his attention and he turned to find Wade leaning against the counter, staring at the youth, “A bit of practice and you could make some money taking off your clothes. Your movements are already beautiful, baby boy.”

    “Thank you for the offer but I don’t really want to become a stripper… You don’t have to stare that hard.” Peter mumbled, pulling his shirt a little lower, even though it covered him well enough already. He didn't want that kind of attention... not now.

    “You shy? Do you need help taking the rest off?” the merc teased but did not advance on Peter like he normally would with such a comment. Their interactions already felt reserved and it gave Peter a sick feeling, one completely different from the one before. This one was something more of a disappointed and lonely sickness, like he had somehow messed up any chance he had once possessed before he had even tried to make things work.

    “Ah, no, that’s okay. But you probably shouldn’t let the pancakes burn.” Peter noted with some amusement in his voice, detecting the faint whiff of burnt batter.

    “Shit.” Deadpool turned back to the pan, realizing he had set the temperature astoundingly too high and had somehow managed to flash fry the pancake he had been making.

    Peter took the opportunity to grab new boxers and his clean sweatpants, walking to the bathroom where he contented himself to change in privacy. He used the facilities and started a shower, figuring he should clean up before putting on anymore clothes, especially considering sweat still clung to parts of him. A shower would let him think, process, and come up with a plan of how he wanted to approach the situation. So with that in mind, he held out his arms, knowing there was no reason to try to wait for warm water, though some did eventually make its way through his shower head. Standing beneath the downpour, he couldn’t tell if he was crying any longer.

 

***

     **_Are we just going to pretend that never happened? What was that all about?_ **  Yellow asked, pointing wildly towards the bathroom.

     **We can’t force this sort of thing out of him. This seems deeply psychological. I have my theories and none of them are good. The only thing we can do now is support him and hope he will open up to us eventually. He did say that he wanted to become more open if we wanted to take a stab at this relationship so maybe he will try to explain this to us.** White explained, more focused on the new pancake they were trying to make.

    “We can wait for Peter, these things take time. It’s not like we don’t have our own insecurities.” Wade explained, cutting some of the strawberries from the fridge, sprinkling them into the round circle of batter that sat in the pan.

     **_All we do is wait on Peter, we always just wait for him to be ready. We postpone our needs for his, we suffer while he spins in circles and tries to decide if he even cares about us. He hasn’t said he wants to be with us yet. How is this fair?_ **

**I’m surprised at you. We care about Peter, how can we push him to do something he’s not comfortable with?** White admonished, Wade ignoring them both.

     **_I mean come on, don’t you feel a little lead on? I mean yeah, obviously the author is gunna give us spidey because we know how much she likes both of our hot bodies, especially pressed up against each other, but how much longer do we have to waiiiiiiiiiiiit?_ **   Yellow groaned, acting childish.

     **I don’t know, only she and Peter know. How about you just have some patience? Look, even she thinks we have to wait for Peter to feel ready.** White suggested, pointing to the huge sign in the back of their head that read ‘You gotta wait for Petey to feel better. Go blow some shit up until he does. Ya get it, because that’s the title of the story.’

     **_Shit, that’s a lot of fourth wall breaks, that’s like eight walls._ **

**The line from our movie was sixteen walls, moron. You can’t even get our own lines right?**

“Guys, please just shut up. Let’s focus on pancakes and the rest of the story. We still have to keep this plot moving. Maybe we will go blow some shit up. Sounds nice, right?” Wade mumbled as he pulled out the sixth pancake from the pan, setting it on one of Peter’s five available plates, the round objects warm and inviting, the scent drifting through the apartment.

    Not more than ten or fifteen minutes later, the merc had a stack ready, splitting the pancakes onto two plates, four on each plate. Taking the empty pizza box from the night before off of the coffee table, he replaced the dirty dishes with the pancake plates, laying out forks and knives as well as a fresh bottle of syrup from the cabinets. It looked picture perfect, Wade just wished he had remembered to grab whipped cream when he had been at the store the week before. Wanting to eat them hot and not wanting to eat in front of Spidey, he pulled up his mask and began shoveling the fluffy cooked batter into his face, marveling once more at his own ability to make stellar pancakes. They tasted like morning sex, gold, and home, as if Wade knew what that meant.

    It was another little bit before Wade was pacing at the bathroom door, wondering if Peter would be getting out soon or if he should check on his baby boy. Waiting was hard, mainly because Wade had turned into the equivalent of a mother hen, but also because he didn’t like the idea of Peter being alone with his thoughts right then.

    “You okay, Petey?” Wade questioned as he knocked at the door.

    There wasn’t an answer immediately but eventually the water shut off and there was shuffling. For a few minutes there was more silence, presumably while Peter dried off. When the door did finally open, a sullen web head stood before the merc. Deadpool stood still, allowing the youth to take the next step, letting them go at his pace despite that racket going on in his brain to act upon the opposite impulse.

    Peter opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, and repeated a few more times until he seemed like a frustrated flounder. But as humorous as it would have been on any other occasion, Wade found the hesitation crushing: his baby boy was struggling with some messed up shit. He could tell by that look in those brown eyes- they had never been as troubled as they appeared now. Something was tearing at his spider’s soul, a feeling Wade could relate to all too well. So it was no wonder when the web slinger finally settled on a topic that was not the one in question.

    “Ah, um, they smell good, the pancakes I mean.” he explained as he walked around Wade to the couch.

    “Not ready yet.” Wade mumbled as an affirmation to himself and followed the web head to sit beside him.

    Peter ate in relative silence, Wade doing his best to change the subject as the time went on. Eventually, the youth began responding in kind and the tension eased ever so slightly. By the time the moment had passed, Peter had stuffed his face full of pancakes, the syrup drizzled over the plate the only proof any had been there. The golden disks had disappeared in less time than Wade would have guessed, but Peter was always a fast eater.

    “Damn, you really do make good pancakes. Thank you, that was amazing.” Peter exclaimed as he stood and took his plate over to the sink, washing off the sticky syrup thoroughly.

    “You sure you’re good enough to go to work?” Wade asked hesitantly, already knowing what his baby boy was going to say.

    “Yeah, of course. I’ll be just fine. Some normalcy will do me some good honestly. I’ll talk to you about this when-”

    “Peter were you… were you raped?” the merc’s voice trembled along with Peter’s body as he looked at the youth’s back in the kitchen.

    Peter hesitated to turn around, to acknowledge the statement. There were a million ways this situation could pan out and none of them were good, none of them promising anything but heartbreak. What good was lying to Wade, to himself? But the tears rolled down Peter’s cheeks unbidden to himself anyway as he turned to face the anti-hero. If anyone was going to accept the parts of Peter he’d rather not remember, it would be Wade: the one who hated himself more than he could hate anyone else, the one that tried his best with the shitty set of cards he had been handed. If not Wade, then who? So with his voice caught in his throat, his heart held bare, and his body feeling like the most poisoned of oaks, he nodded ever so softly, never breaking eye contact with Wade.

      **He was… how could he… Who?**

**_OUR baby boy was… defiled! How, how DARE they? WHO?!_ **

**** The voices crescendoed overtop themselves and Wade nearly short circuited. Nothing was said for a long moment before Wade placed his chin on clasped hands, “Who?”

     Peter didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to debate something before he sighed, walking to sit back on the couch next to the merc, “His name is… Steven Westcott, but he went by Skip. It was a long time ago, I was around twelve, I think. I’ve tried to forget for so long that some of the events are… hazy at best,” the web head faltered but continued on with a pained face, “he was kind to me at first, just someone to hang out with: a local high schooler. I didn’t have many friends… any friends… so I followed him all too easily. My aunt and uncle thought it was good for me, getting some social interaction, even if he was a bit ‘rough around the edges’ as my aunt said. We were at his house one day, he had picked me up on his way home, and his mother wasn’t home. That wasn’t unusual, she worked all the time, but the house felt exceptionally empty that day. He showed me some dirty magazines and told me that we should re-enact the things they were doing on the pages. Of course I didn’t want to but I was so scared. I told him I needed to leave but… He was so much bigger than me, so rough, so determined. It was so simple for him to gather me in his arms and toss me onto his bed. He… he covered my entire body, pressed me down into the mattress and he violated me. He destroyed my body that day: took my virginity, self worth, and trust.”

     “Did you ever tell anyone about this?” the assassin asked, jaw clenched, teeth gritting.

     “I told my aunt and uncle about it. They reported him but there was never an official investigation. I don’t remember why but I never saw him again. I think he moved out of state to avoid repercussions.”

     Again, silence persisted and the din of the voices made themselves known again.

     **_Please tell me we are going to go pay this fucker a visit?_ **

      **I agree on this account, we must settle this issue, one way or another. Peter surely will not approve of killing but we can come up with just as excruciating punishments, right? Torture is an option.**  

     **_I like the way you’re thinking White, my man._** Yellow growled, pulling their focus to plans of torture and payback.

      **We have a couple of molesters to take care of now. Good, our favorite type of assholes to deal with and make hurt.** White reminded them, curling their thoughts into an even darker spiral.

     “Yes, I agree. We will make plans later,” turning from his thoughts back to Peter, he furrowed his brow, “Peter… that was not your fault. You were not weak, you were simply a kid trying to make a friend. That motherfucker doesn’t deserve the air he breathes even now. God so help him if I ever run into-”

      “How could you tell?” Peter cut him off, looking troubled.

      “I’m sorry?” Wade asked, trying to follow the other male’s thought pattern.

      “Why did you guess I had been raped? How could you tell?” Peter repeated, his knuckles white with how hard he clenched them.

      “I’ve… done business with a lot of rape victims. Over time you learn to recognize the signs. You’ve never liked to be touched all that much, and even when you did, it was always a touch above your neck. You hate to be put in a situation where you have no escape. You walk in a way that attempts to minimize any attention you receive, like you don’t want to be noticed. And what happened earlier, that pretty much confirmed it. If you were thinking it was because you believe that I think you look weak, I can assure you that’s not the case. I always thought you were just reserved… but I was sadly and sorely mistaken… If I find him, that man who did this, believe me I’m going to make him regret his birth.”

      “Wade, it’s fine. I don’t want you to kill him… I think. Yes, no I definitely don’t want you to kill him. Yes, he hurt me. Yes, it still affects me. But… but he still deserves… a second chance.” Peter explained, but his eyes told a different story.

      “You don’t sound so sure of yourself. You can’t honestly say that if he were standing here right now, that you wouldn’t make him hurt, even if you just punched him or said what you were feeling?” Wade tried, exasperated.

      “I’ve thought about that for a long time. Honestly speaking, I want to tell him how he affected me, I want him to know that he broke a part of me that I’ve been trying to repair ever since. That I am stronger now and that I don't intend to let him control me forever, that this fear is not going to win… Yeah I’d probably punch him pretty hard.” Peter admitted after a moment.

      “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll keep it in mind. Anyway, I think you should take some time off today. You’re stressed, I can feel the anxiety coming off of you in waves.” Wade tried, placing a hand on Peter’s head, trying to comfort the younger male.

      “No, I want to go. If I can get back into my normal routine, that will make me feel better the fastest. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Peter explained as he stood on fawn legs, their shaking almost comical.

      “I’m going to let you make your own decisions, but I advise you to take it easy. You’re obviously shaken, more so than is healthy. I’m just worried, Peter. How can I not be worried?”

      “I’m not… not anymore. You didn’t turn away from me, you didn't look disgusted. That’s all I could ever ask of you, Wade. It makes me feel a lot better… I was scared that you’d think I was too broken. With all my powers, my self-confidence that I portray, and my wit… I’m just a scared boy who never really ever fit in. It’s so easy to think I’m undeserving of you.” Peter confessed softly, not turning to look at Wade as he spoke.

       “You? Undeserving of _me_? Peter, that’s fucking hilarious. Okay, obviously we aren’t getting anywhere right now. Just promise me you’ll call if you need me, alright?” Wade responded, resisting the urge to go wrap himself around Peter and tell him he would be alright, that there was nothing to worry about, that he had him.

      “Yes, absolutely, I will. Now, I’ve got to go. I promise you’ll hear from me if anything happens.” with that, the web-head gathered his backpack, stuffed his wallet and keys into one of the pockets and was gone before Wade could say another word.

      The madman sat in the apartment for a while, debating his options, arguing with himself, pacing a path into the floor, generally worrying over Peter for what felt like ages. But he was a man of action and there was only one thing he wanted to do in that moment. Revenge was his forte and he had found one hell of a target.

       **You remember his name right? We can have Weasel run him through his database.** White suggested.

      “No. This needs to be personal. I’m going to track him down myself. He’s going to pay for what he did by tenfold. And then I’m bringing him here so that he can face Peter.”

       **That might traumatize Spidey more though. You can’t just spring a victim’s attacker on them, not without preparation. He could break down, it could get worse.**

**_Yeah even I have to admit that’s a bad idea._ **

**If you are intent on helping Peter over this obstacle in his life, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. But in the meantime, we do need to continue our last job, you know, the one from last chapter? And we have this new guy to find so we will have plenty of time to ease Peter into the idea.**

“Alright, that sounds good. Let’s get this rolling, we’ve got peoples’ days to fuck up.” Deadpool shouted as he opened the window and vaulted out of it, his katanas and pistols burning holes in their sheathes and holsters.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ((Was that cool? I thought it was cool.
> 
> "You're biased."
> 
> Yeah well, so are you!
> 
> "I mean Yellow thought it was cool. But then again you're writing this so was it actually him saying it or are you making him say it?"
> 
> Stop breaking the fourth wall! Stay in the nice box I put you in.
> 
> "But you're making me do this, despite you not wanting me to?"
> 
> Stop, that's giving me a headache.
> 
> "Again, you're-"
> 
> Agfiafgblawgaoegbiaeog.
> 
> Drop a comment with any improvements or constructive criticism you may have. This is my first work so any tips would be appreciated! ))


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